Guilty Conscience
by ItsAStrangeDay
Summary: Christian just wanted to be a Dominant. But not like this. No, THIS, was NOT what he wanted at all... *Edited for Mistakes, No New Content* *Complete*
1. Chapter 1

He took a few deep breaths, not knowing how she would react. They weren't in a scene. He didn't have to worry about punishment here. This was his office. His domain. That's why he'd invited her down here instead of doing this at her home where they met secretly. He was in control at this office. It was here, behind this desk, while he was master of his own universe, that he felt truly at home. It was here where the idea had first crossed his mind. So it was here that he would broach the topic to her. "I want… to be a Dom," he said, trying to steel himself to display power and determination in front of her now.

He was nervous. She could see he was nervous. He didn't cover his emotions well, though he was obviously trying. But she could see it. So she remained completely impassive as he dropped this bomb on her. She didn't want this. He wasn't ready for this. She would make him back down. She squared her shoulders, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned slightly forward. "You want to be a Dom," she said, the incredulity in her voice evident.

"Yes," he said with a slight waiver. She smirked inwardly. He would never be able to stand up to her. Not after six years. "While I appreciate everything you've done for me Elena, I am a different person now that I was when you brought me into the scene. I demand control in all areas of my life besides the bedroom. And I have come to realize I want to control that as well."

She sighed, her tone of voice a forced nonchalance as she said, "Well, it's not that I had never considered this possibility. Not to say I am happy about it. So tell me, what is it you see when you close your eyes and imagine yourself as a Dom?"

He was surprised, and his face showed that clearly. He expected more of a fight from her. More _something_. But she wasn't giving him anything.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," she said, standing up, placing her hand on his desk, and leaning forward, clacking her long blood red fingernails on the hard wood beneath her fingers, "Exactly what I asked. Don't make me ask again Christian."

"I…" he stuttered, feeling the guilt wash over him at disappointing her. Her eyes bore into his as she said these words and he felt the heat of failure creep up his neck. "Mistress, I-" he said, shaking his head, his eyes downcast onto his lap for a moment before he took a deep breath and they shot back up to meet hers. "Elena," He cleared his throat, his voice deepening slightly. He stood then, so that she wasn't towering over him anymore. Of course, he was taller, so he was looking down on her now.

She felt her heart jump. _He stood up_. She was towering over him, staring hard into his eyes, and he _stood up_ and met her eye to eye. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was serious about this. "I am 21 now. Almost 22. I want this. I'm sure of it. What do I picture?" He closed his eyes, imaging the scene. "I picture a petite woman. Pale. Brunette. I picture her blindfolded. Hands tied, of course. I picture her on her knees waiting for me to walk into the room and punish her. Please her. I picture myself in control completely. I picture it and it feels like fire running through my veins. I want this Elena. Of that, there is no doubt,"

They shared intense eye contact for a moment longer before she spoke. "Brunettes huh?" she scoffed, dropping back into her chair with a huff. She needed to be playful now. She didn't want to lose him in her life, that much she knew. And since it would appear that he was very serious about this, she would have to back him on it rather than fight him on it. She stood to lose too much if she lost him. All this time invested couldn't be for nothing. So she would have to be his friend for this part, not his Mistress.

"Brunettes do something for me. I'm not sure what it is. But they just do it for me," he shrugged, taking his seat again, reading the room and taking on the friendly tone.

"Well I'm not dying my hair," Elena chided, followed by a cackling laugh.

Christian's face screwed up into a look of confusion. "What do you mean?"

She smirked, leaning forward and taking his hand across the desk. "Oh darling Christian. It's going to take a lot of training to turn you into a Dom. You can't just _become_ one. I can help you. I can _teach_ you. First, I'll scene with you. Then, when you're a little more knowledgeable and comfortable in that role, I'll introduce you to other women who can sub for you. I can get you into the clubs and get you lots of practice. I'll help you find subs suited to your specific tastes."

"You'd do that for me?" he asked, in awe of her. This woman… she had done so much for him over the last half dozen years. But this was more than he expected even her to be able to handle.

"Oh Christian," she said, coming around the desk, and pulling him into an embrace. "Of course! People like us- we need to stick together. You need to learn so, so much. From how to conduct yourself with confidence and authority in the bedroom, to how to properly use the tools of the trade. You need to learn _a lot_. We both know you already know how to please a woman," she winked, "But now you need to learn how to punish one. And you can't trust just anyone out there to teach you. You are a young, handsome man on the rise in the business world. People will be looking to take advantage of you and manipulate you to get what they want while hurting you in the process. But me? Christian you already know you can trust me. So who better to teach you than me?"

Christian gave her an appreciate smile. "Thank you so much Elena. I didn't even think about a lot of that stuff. I want to make sure I do this the smart way. You're right, there are many people who are out to hurt me. I would happily accept your help with this."

She nodded, her face displaying concern and understanding. "I'll take care of you Christian. Haven't I always?"

"Yes, Elena. You have."

* * *

They'd just come from dinner where she'd treated him for his birthday, which wasn't actually until tomorrow. But he had plans for a family dinner, as usual, on his actual birthday, so Elena had request to take him out tonight. They'd had a lovely meal, shared as friends, when she'd asked him to come into her home for a 'surprise'.

"I've got a present for you, pet," Elena purred as she led him into her home, closing the door behind him.

But Christian resisted, pulling back from her. "Elena, you are not to address me as 'pet' anymore," he spat the word like it was a curse. His eyes turned stone grey as his jaw ticked with anger. They'd been at this for three months now. Elena had been his exclusive submissive for three months and was getting tired of her subtle power plays over him. She always brushed them off as mistakes, but he knew that Elena made no mistakes. She was far too deliberate and calculated to have so many misspoken words. He had learned a lot from her, _that_ he couldn't argue. In such a short time, he had become a master of masking his emotion. He was quite competent at wielding a plethora of tools and instruments of punishment and manipulating ones of pleasure to bring a woman to her sexual breaking point. Tomorrow he would be 22 and he wanted to be done with his sexual relationship with Elena. A fresh start as a Dom. She had taught him so much, and he would forever be grateful for everything she had done for him over the years, but he knew he needed to move on.

"Oh Christian, I'm sorry. It's nothing more than a force of habit!" she dismissed per usual. Elena hadn't been oblivious to the fact that Christian was getting frustrated with dominating just her. She'd hoped she would be enough, but she quickly learned that she just wasn't going to be what he wanted, no matter what she did. It ate at her in the worst way that even though she was a willing submissive with no limits that he still wasn't content with just her. She could feel that any day now he would break the news that he wanted to branch out. So she had worked as quickly as she could to find a submissive who met his physical criteria, so she could keep him under her thumb before he went looking elsewhere. She needed to be involved in this process. Even if it meant training and supplying the woman Christian was controlling in the bedroom. "Come, please. I have a birthday present for you." Her eyes were twinkling, and he nodded, following her to the living room. Tonight he would tell her that they were done. He would ask for her referral to the local clubs, and he would move on to hone his skills on other women so he could truly become a master at his craft.

He expected them to take a seat on the sofa, but instead she passed by it and headed to the door that led to her dungeon.

Christian halted immediately. "Elena, I was going to wait to tell you but I think it's best—"

"Oh just come _here_ Christian," she insisted with a stamp of her foot. "For old time's sake, just listen to what I am telling you." She turned on heel and pushed the door open, leaving him to follow. He could sense her irritation, and he didn't want to upset her. He needed her influence to get into the clubs.

He sighed in frustration, running his hand through his unruly hair before following her. Maybe one last time wouldn't hurt. He walked through the threshold of the open door and froze. Elena was standing behind him to his right, back against the wall, a large grin on her face.

On the floor in the center of the room was a petite brunette with alabaster skin. Her long hair curled down around the midline of her breasts, caressing the tips of her little pink nipples. She was on her knees, her hands bound in front of her at her wrists. She had on a black blindfold. And he could see full luscious lips wrapped around a ball gag. The gag hadn't been part of his fantasy, but everything else had been perfect, just how he'd imagined a million times. He felt his cock twitch but he withheld his groan, as Elena had taught him. Immediately he felt the electricity in the room. He stood a little taller, raised his chin a little higher. His gaze changed in some way that couldn't be explained by words, but the difference in his stance and demeanor was noticeable.

_Happy birthday indeed._

"She's for you, dear," Elena said quietly in his ear. "I have been training her to your specifications, but only for the last month or so. She is new to the lifestyle, so she will not know if you make a mistake. She is for you to get your feet wet. Use her to learn, Christian. Make her yours."

_Mine_, he thought, feeling the sense of intense power coursing through him now.

"What's her name?" he asked, his eyes not leaving her body.

"Anastasia."

"Anastasia," he repeated, loving the way it rolled off his tongue. "What are her limits?"

Elena let out a little sigh. "She has more than a few. Here's the list. She's new, so bear that in mind, Christian. She's still working through a lot of the nuances of the scene. I think she'll be more willing to do more as time goes along, but it wasn't easy to find someone who met all of your physical desires. And that seemed to be what you focused on in your fantasy. Not what you did, but how your sub looked. So I tried to oblige."

He nodded. Yes. This was all true. At this point, he did care more about her looks, because it was something he'd been desperate for. He wanted to fuck and flog someone who looked exactly like this, down to the deepest part of him, but he wasn't sure why. He had plenty of time to find a woman with the look and the appropriate limits to satiate his needs. But for now, this is exactly what he wanted.

Elena handed him a folder. Inside was a copy of _Anastasia's_ limits, both hard and soft. He immediately noticed gagging on the soft limits, and wondered why Elena was pushing that one, but the thought left his mind as he scanned the rest of the list. Most, if not all, of the harder BDSM things were on here. But she was willing to be tied up, spanked, flogged, and fucked (but not anally), and that was all he needed right now.

He quickly read the list of the limits out loud, then in a commanding voice, asked, "This is a list of your limits, correct Anastasia?" She nodded. "And you trust me not to waiver from this list?" Again, she nodded. "Good. How will you safe word to me, Anastasia, since you are wearing a ball gag?" The girl held up her bound hands to show she was holding a key ring with Elena's playroom keys on it. She proceeded to shake them, paused, then dropped them before picking them up. "If you want to warn me you are reaching your limit…?" he led. She flicked her wrist quickly in order to shake the keys loudly. He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "And for me to stop immediately?" She held out her hand and dropped the keys on the floor in front of her. "Very good, Anastasia." She picked up the keys and put her hands back in her lap, holding still once more.

His fingers found the knot on his tie, then deftly pulled at it to loosen it enough to pull over his head and toss it aside. "She's perfect Elena. Perfect," he growled gruffly, watching as the girl's back moved ever so slightly with a shiver. Was it one of anticipation? Arousal? Intimidation? If he was lucky, it was a combination of all three.

"I'm so glad you're pleased, Sir," she whispered. "I would like to stay in the room if it you are okay with that, just in case you need me. But I promise I will not make a sound unless you desire me to, Sir."

"Yes. Fine. Good," he grunted quickly, waving her away. He wanted all of his focus on Anastasia now. But having Elena around in case something went wrong- since both he and the sub were relatively new to this… It wasn't a terrible idea. "Now. Anastasia. You are not to move unless told otherwise, do you understand me?" She nodded. "Good. Stand." He wanted desperately to get started.

She did as told, immediately standing, head down, legs about six inches apart. He approached her, reached out, skimming a finger across her collarbone, down the side swell of her left breast, across her hip, to the top of her pubic mound. She was bare, and that pleased him. _Perfect._

Reaching up, he grabbed one of the carabiners attached to the grid on the ceiling up above them. He took her restrained hands and raised them high above her head, attaching the carabiner to her restraint before stepping back to admire her. Her body was flawless. That creamy, gorgeous skin was just begging for a flogging. And he was too willing to oblige. He walked away, going to the wall, taking his time picking out which flogger he wanted to use on her. He wanted this memory to be perfect. He wanted it to last forever. Finally, he made a decision, taking a matte black one off the rack and slowly walking back over to her. He glanced up at Elena only once, and she wasn't paying them any attention as she flipped through a magazine, so he pushed her from his mind again.

With Elena, as a sub and as a Dom, he'd learned extreme control over his body. So he was determined to make this session, his first _real_ session as a Dom, a memorable one. He wanted it to last. He wanted to remember this perfect little beauty bent over before him, taking every inch of him. He wanted to watch her skin turn pink and hot under his hand and under a flogger. But as a Dom, it was his job to take_ her_ into account too. So he tried to remember she was new at these things and not to test her limits too much at this point. If he was lucky, he would get multiple more chances with this brown haired beauty.

So, from there, he started to make his dream come true. He rained that flogger down on her pale little body over and over and over again. And she did not disappoint, her skin turning hot and angry. He started on her front, working her body relentlessly until she was pink from her shoulders to her knees. Her flamed skin even matched the pink of her nipples, which after some special attention from his mouth, matched the red on her lips. God, she was gorgeous. When he was satisfied with her front, he began to work on her back. He knew he wanted to bend her over and fuck her from behind, so he wanted to save her back for last so it would be as pink as possible when he entered her.

He worked her over for what felt like hours, and she was amazing. He could see her chest heaving as her breathing increased, and when he crouched down behind her, he was able to see her arousal glistening between her legs. He was even lucky enough to catch sight of a rivulet of moisture trickling down her thigh, which he caught with his tongue and traced back up to the crease in her thigh. But she never moved. He was beaming with pride for her. She was pleasing him immensely, especially for someone with little experience. Elena must have really been working hard with her the last month.

When he was done and she was perfectly ruddy and glowing hot under his touch, he tossed the flogged aside and lowered her arms from the carabiners. Then, still clutching the tether of her restraint, he pulled her over to the wooden bondage post standing in the middle of the room. "Spread your legs and then do not move," he said, watching as she spread them apart about another foot. He leaned her forward with a hand between her shoulder blades, then attached her restraint to the post. Bending over, his fingers found her ankles, then ran up the length of her smooth legs until they were slowly caressing her ass. He ran his nose across the crease where her thigh met her cheek, then brought it toward her sex, inhaling her scent deeply before straightening back up.

He took his time unbuttoning his shirt, undoing his cufflinks, pulling his shirt off and laying it down on the chair next to them. He unbuckled his belt, pulling it from the loops. He folded it in his hands, let silence envelope the room for a few long seconds before snapping the belt loudly. He watched her body intently, and she didn't budge. "Good girl," he whispered gently. He was impressed. Elena had made it seem like she was worried about her ability to follow instruction, but so far she had been nothing short of perfect. "Anastasia, you will come for me, but at the end of the scene. I will come as many times as I deem fit before then. I will let you know when you can come, and only then will you do so. Do you understand?" Another nod.

Unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, he lowered them and his boxer briefs, pulling them from his legs along with his socks. He stood behind her fully naked, running his fingertips down her spine, over the crack in her ass, and down to her core. He couldn't hold back the groan as he felt the heat of her hot, wet core on his fingers. He teased between her folds for a few moments, tracing up one side, down the other, circling her clit gently. She was mouthwateringly wet. He wanted to taste her, really dig in there and taste, her, but he just couldn't wait another moment to be inside of her. So without further preamble, he gripped her hips tightly and slammed into her with full force.

Her strangled cry could be heard from behind her gag, and the tortured sound of it made him pause immediately. Her back arched and twisted as much as her body would allow in this position. Her whole body was shaking and he could tell she was trying to absorb and dispel pain, not pleasure. His eyes shot to Elena in question, but she just kept her eyes glued to the magazine. He watched for her to see if she shook or dropped the keys, but her hand just gripped them so tightly her knuckles were turning white. And Elena had always taught him that as long as a safeword wasn't spoken, it was the proverbial 'game on'.

_It's probably just your size. She's tiny. Most men aren't as big as you. She'll adjust. _And that was the last he thought about it. If he didn't hear that metal jingle, she was fine, so he continued his assault on her body. Because that was the kind of sex he enjoyed. Hard fucking. There were a handful of times Elena wanted things slow, and as her sub, he of course did that without question, but he wasn't a fan. In his room, that type of sex would never make an appearance.

So he lost himself. She kept her head down, her knees locked, and her fists clenched tightly around the pole and her 'safeword' keys. Her body was writhing and it irked him because he'd told her to hold still. She was disobeying him. But he was also trying to be respectful of her newness to the situation. He couldn't expect her to have learned iron control over her body in a month. Her shoulders were shaking slightly and her abdomen was contracting. He wanted to come like this, and he was fairly certain when he did let her, he would have her come in his mouth. After he came in hers. He felt his excitement grow at his plans. He couldn't wait to have her all those ways. But first he wanted to finish himself this way. So he grabbed her more tightly and fucked with a fierceness he was sure he'd never reached before, not wanting to test her orgasm control too much. He felt himself teeter over his own threshold as he exploded inside of her. As soon as he stopped thrusting, her head dropped forward and her body went rigid except for her heaving chest.

With a groan of satisfaction, he pulled out of her, releasing her hips from his hands, and she immediately dropped to her knees, the keys still clasped in her palm as her hands stretched above her had since she was still attached to the post. "Stand up Anastasia," he commanded. But she didn't move. Didn't drop or shake the keys, but didn't stand either. "Anastasia," he warned again. Slowly he saw her rise on shaky legs. "I think you deserve a punishment for disobeying me, Anastasia. Do you agree?"

He noticed her slightly shaking shoulders and stilted breathing as she nodded her head. "Good." Walking over to the wall, he reached for a paddle and brought it back to her, intending on making her ass so sore she would feel it until next week. He reached to remove her restraints from the post and caught sight of the line of blood dripping down her wrist and halfway down her forearm. "Jesus, what—" he whispered, setting the paddle down and grabbing her wrists instead. He turned them so her palms faced up, removing the keys from her hand and tossing them aside as well. His stomach did a little flip when he saw multiple puncture wounds in her skin from the keys. "What the fuck?" he questioned, half angry and half fearful. Why would she do this? If she was in enough pain to cause this, why wouldn't she have used her safeword? "Anastasia-?" he began to question, looking up at her face only to see tear streaks marring her pink cheeks. He tore the mask from her face and was caught breathless as he stared into guileless blue eyes for only a moment before they hit the floor. They were brimming with tears and cutting straight into his soul.

Suddenly Elena's voice cut in. He'd forgotten she was even there. "Ana, oh my goodness child, look what you've done!"

A choking noise came from Anastasia's throat and quickly Christian removed the ball gag. Immediately she dropped to her knees in front of Elena, fresh tears filling her eyes. "I'm so sorry Mistress. I tried. I wanted to be good but it hurt so badly. I thought I would be okay but it was different that when you used toys on me. He was so much bigger and harder than the toys." Christian was trying to understand what Anastasia meant by what she said.

"Stop talking," Elena spat quickly, her eyes flitting between Anastasia and Christian. If Christian thought anything could make Elena Lincoln nervous, he would think he was nervous right now. "You speak when given permission to do so." Anastasia shut her mouth immediately and dropped her eyes to the floor.

"Anastasia what happened during the scene just now?" He asked. But her eyes remained cast down to the floor and she remained silent. "I want you to look up, not at the floor." She looked up, but found Elena's eyes, not Christian's, and they were spitting all kinds of fire and warning at her.

"Anastasia, today, right now, in this room, I am your Dom and I am asking you a question. I want it answered now. Do not look at Mrs. Lincoln. Look at me." And she did, piercing blue eyes meeting gray head on. Christian felt a sick feeling spread from his stomach throughout his body as he got a good look at this girl without a blindfold or gag obscuring her face. This girl… She looked…young. Like, _really_ young. He really only needed her to be eighteen, but Christian really would have preferred if she was at least twenty-one. Hopefully she was, and just looked younger. Although he hadn't specified an age to Elena. "Anastasia, how old are you?" Christian asked quietly, not sure he wanted an answer.

"Sixteen sir," she replied quietly.

Christian couldn't help the feeling of revulsion that coursed through him. He choked for a second on the air he was breathing. He'd been concerned that she was only eighteen! Instead, she wasn't even that!

Christian pinned Elena with a furious glare. "How fucking dare you Elena?!" he spat angrily at her.

"Oh come on Christian! This is a whole year older than when you—"

"Don't say another fucking word," he hissed, grabbing her by her arm and yanking her from the playroom, leaving Anastasia standing there alone. He was more than aware than he was naked as the day her was born and he spat hateful words at his former Mistress, but he couldn't care less. If there was one thing he'd learned with Elena, it was comfort with his body. There wasn't an inch of him she hadn't seen or touched a thousand times before.

Once he had her out in the hall, he laid into her. "How fucking dare you set me up like this. Letting me unknowingly fuck a _sixteen_ year old! Are you crazy? I trusted you!"

"It's no different than you and me Christian. I'm trying to let you help her the same way I helped you. She lives in my neighborhood. Her parents are fucking worthless. Her father died and her mother pretends she doesn't exist except to berate her. She wants to get out of that home and go to college and live her own life free of the relentless scrutiny. I told her I could help- that I knew someone who could financially support her for a small price. I explained to her in detail what this lifestyle involves and she's okay with it. She doesn't want a boyfriend. She has no interest in boys at all right now. She just wants to get her life back on track. She knows this is a smart way to do so. Like a business transaction. Her words!"

"She's _sixteen_ Elena! This could ruin me! Everything I've worked to create could be gone if she decides to go to the police!" He roared. How could she be so stupid?!

"The girl isn't going to talk! She wants this! Just like you wanted it! She's of the consenting age in Washington. She knows what she wants." Elena said, exasperated. "Plus, I had her sign an NDA."

"A fucking NDA is worthless for a minor without parental witness Elena!" Holy shit. She really thought having a sixteen year old sign an NDA was going to make this right? Fuck!

"Christian-"

"No. No Elena. I can't fucking believe you did this. Now I'm going to go in there and try to salvage this- try to save this fucking mess from ruining my entire life. And for once, just shut your fucking mouth." With that he turned from her and went back into the playroom, finding the girl in the exact spot he'd left her.

She was in tears again, and blurted out a begging apology the moment he stepped into the room. "I'm sorry I wasn't good. It was only because it was my first time. Give me another chance. I would never say anything even without an NDA. Please, I need the money for school- I'll never be able to do it on my own—".

Christian held up his hand to stop her. "What do you mean by 'it was my first time'? I thought you'd scened with Mrs. Lincoln."

"I did. I meant sex, Sir. It was my first time having sex. With a man. Mrs. Lincoln did scene with me, with phallic toys, but it was nothing like that and I—"

But before she could finish again, Christian had Elena pinned against the wall behind her and was screaming in her face. "A fucking virgin, Elena?! Are you out of your fucking _mind_?" He let her go, starting to pace the room now, running his hand through his hair like a mad man, muttering over and over.

"Would you stop crying?" Elena hissed at her, only for Christian to get in her face again.

"Didn't I tell you not to talk? I swear to fuck Elena, do not yell at the girl! She's just a kid! This is not her fault. It's _yours_." He took in the sight of the girl again, realizing for the first time that she was still naked. Rushing to the wall, he grabbed a silk robe off a hook and draped it over her. Sixteen, _Sixteen_.

"Anastasia-"

"Ana, sir," Ana said meekly.

"Anastasia, I am going to write you a check for $50,000. It is not, I repeat, it is NOT hush money. It is simply money I am giving you because Mrs. Lincoln grossly misinformed you of what was to become of this meeting. I am so sorry for what you went through with regards to this situation. I am offering you this money as a way to pay for college when the time comes, since I will not be holding up to the end of the bargain that Mrs. Lincoln promised you. Please, use this money for school, for doing whatever you need to do to better your personal situation. Do not squander it. And please, for pity's sake, never let a man use your body for monetary gain again. I am sickened to think that your first time was with me- here- like _this_. I'll never be able to apologize enough for that. Please know, had I known, I never would have done any of this. You are a beautiful girl who deserves far better than all of this. Be better than this. Do better than this. For yourself."


	2. Chapter 2

Christian sat in his car in the parking lot, waiting. John Flynn was his newest therapist, hell bent on breaking through and helping to fix the ever broken Christian Grey. Christian hated, really fucking hated to talk to shrinks, but today he was desperate for it. He needed to attempt to sort through the heavy things he was feeling in regards to the whole fucked up situation from last night. He was floundering in his thoughts, and for the first time, really felt like he would benefit from having someone's help working through them. He was truly fucked up over all of this. He felt immense, all-consuming guilt over taking advantage of Anastasia. He was drowning. And he was willing, for the first time, to ask for help. Because if he didn't sort through it, it was going to consume him. It was going to tear him apart.

When John Flynn stepped out of his car in the parking lot of his office building, he was surprised to see his patient Christian Grey exit his vehicle as well. The young man was clearly worse for the wear. He looked exhausted. His hair was a frazzled mess, John was sure from the habit he had of running his fingers through it when he was upset. He looked truly distressed. John had been seeing Christian for only about 6 months now. He'd taken a special interest in the complexities of this young man and the tragic events of his life. He could see such good in him, even though Christian couldn't see that in himself. He'd been through so many therapists during his life, that he was willing to share details of his intimate life well enough. But he shared them like facts on a spreadsheet. He seemed to have no desire to work through them. He had no problem telling John about his tragic childhood, or informing him of the extremely inappropriate, previously- pedophilic, exceptionally manipulative sexual relationship he had with his mother's close friend. But he showed no desire to work through the effects these events had had on his mental state. He consistently defended his abuser, no matter what angle John used to try to get him to see the reality. Christian was not very willing to talk. He had been through multiple therapists throughout his life, and as badly as John wanted to help him, Christian didn't seem to want the help. So John was very surprised to see him show up here at a time when he was not scheduled to arrive. Especially as he had cancelled their scheduled appointment earlier this week.

"Christian, it's Friday. I don't take appointments on Friday mornings, so I know you don't have one. May I ask what brings you here?"

"I need to talk John. I did something last night. I need to talk. I'll pay you anything. Please."

"Of course," John said, unlocking the office door and waving Christian in. He was just here for paperwork, but he could sense his client's severe anxiety. If this was a chance to finally break through and help this young man, he was more than happy to take it.

"Come in and have a seat," John said, waving Christian into his office.

"I'd rather stand," Christian mumbled, pacing the room immediately, running his hands through his hair.

"Fine," John said, pulling his recorder from his desk and taking a seat in his usual spot. "What's on your mind?" he asked as he hit record,

"I did something bad last night. But I didn't know I was doing it or I never would have." John could see he was riddled with guilt over whatever had happened.

"And what was that, Christian?"

Christian sighed, grunted, continued to pace as he said, "I had sex with a minor. I took her virginity. I didn't know she was a minor or a virgin. I wouldn't have- if I had _known_-"

John remained impassive as he said. "Okay. Why don't you tell me how this happened; how did you come to even be able to have sexual contact with a minor without the knowledge of her age?"

"Elena," Christian mumbled, fast and furiously. "Elena set it up. It was... she was a submissive. I told Elena what I wanted, physically, for a sub, and she found this girl. We went out for a birthday dinner and she took me back to her home because she said she had a present for me. We went into the playroom and this girl was there, on her knees, naked and waiting. She was blindfolded and gagged, so I didn't have a good read on her face to see how young she really was. I made sure to ask her that she was okay being with me, with the list of limits I was given. I went over what she would physically do to safeword since she was gagged. She nodded and responded appropriately, so I knew she was willing. I never even considered her age. I never considered that Elena would put me in the position to have to consider it."

"So you had sex with her?"

"I did," he said breathlessly, like it pained him to admit. "She seemed in pain when I entered her, but she didn't drop the keys so I figured she was fine. She was writhing the whole time, but I assumed it was in pleasure, not in pain. But after I was done, I saw blood on her arm. She had gripped the keys so tightly in her hand that she's broken the skin and started to bleed. That's when I noticed she had tears on her cheeks. I removed the blindfold and gag, and it was obvious. Her face was _so_ young. I asked her age immediately."

"And how old was she?"

"Sixteen. Six-fucking-teen! Can you fucking believe that John? She's a kid," he groaned, finally stopping his furious pacing to throw himself on the couch, hunching over, burying his head in his hands as his elbows resents on his knees. This was it, John thought. The chance to show him the reality of his own situation. John would have to play devil's advocate, but this might be just what he needed to break through with Christian.

"Well, I don't know that it's that big of a deal Christian. She did consent. She was within the legal parameters to do so."

Christian's head shot up, his eyes meeting John's, filled with fury and incredulity. "How can you say that? She's **sixteen** John! She's barely old enough to consent! A few months younger and this would have been rape! I'm **twenty-two**. She's just a kid! She's just a kid who was in a bad position at home. Elena took advantage of how emotionally fragile she was and lured her into this world of sex and pain. I am not a good man by any means, but I would never take advantage of a kid like that! But I did! I fucked her! A fucking kid! A sixteen year old should not be able to consent to sex with an adult. It's disgusting and amoral and _horrible_. I _feel_ like I raped her. Legally I may not have, but in my gut I feel like I statutory raped that girl." Christian held his abdomen for affect, a look crossing his face like he might be sick.

"Tell me then, Christian, why is it that she should not be allowed to consent to sex with a man six years her elder at sixteen, but you feel that it was appropriate for you to consent to sex at just fifteen? With a woman who was more than twice your age? What is the difference between the two?"

Christian's jaw clenched down tightly, so tightly John thought he might shatter his teeth. "It's different."

"You just told me that this girl should not have been able to consent, that she is not old enough to make that kind of decision. You said loud and clear that, to you, it feels like rape. You did not mince words. You clearly defined how you see what happened between you and this underage girl as rape, not because she resisted you, but solely because of her age. You specified statutory rape. Statutory rape laws are in place to protect immature children from being taken advantage of by adults who should be more mature and should know better. But the law here in Washington has decided that sixteen year olds do have the maturity to make that decision for themselves."

"But that's bullshit. That girl- you didn't see her John. She was totally lost when I took that blindfold off. _Crying._ **Apologizing** to me for not being good enough. If she were truly mature enough to make these decisions on her own, then these would not be the decisions she would have made. I'm not saying these things to put her down, I'm just trying to make my point to you that she was taken advantage of. She clearly was not making the right choice when she chose this."

"So again, I ask, _why_ is that different from your situation with Elena, Christian? Why is it that what happened to you is not wrong, not _rape_, when you were _not even_ of an age to legally consent to sexual relations with Mrs. Lincoln?"

Christian let out a frustrated sigh. "I've _told_ you this a million times! I **wanted** it. Elena _helped_ me. You know this." Yes, John had heard those words a lot of Christian, but this was the first time he'd ever heard them with a tint of hesitation to his voice. He needed to keep pushing this. He needed Christian to make that connection.

"Did this girl not want it? Did she tell you afterward that she had not wanted it? That Elena was forcing her to do this?"

"No. Like I said, she apologized for her behavior. That's when I found out I had taken her virginity. Elena had promised her that I would be able to be financially beneficial to her. She is apparently desperate to get out of her home life and afford college tuition. Elena told her I would be able to assist in that. She seemed very desperate to receive that help. She wanted to do this for that beneficial outcome for herself."

"So what you're saying is that she, _like you_, felt that by indulging in this sexual act, it would be beneficial to her own life and goals. It would pull her out of a bad situation and put her on a right path. She would gain control over her own life and future. So knowing these benefits, she agreed to participate in BDSM sex with you. Again, explain to me, how is that different than what you did? What makes her and you doing it wrong, and you and Mrs. Lincoln doing it right?"

John was sure Christian would be bald by the time he left the office; he was tugging on his hair so hard. He sat silently for a long time, just tugging on his hair. John waited patiently, noting that it was full ten minutes later when Christian muttered. "I don't know how to answer that."

"Okay," John said. "Can you answer me this? Are you more inclined to believe that, since you can't reconcile the two ideas separately, that it's more likely that what you and she did was actually right, or is it more likely that what you and Elena did was actually wrong?"

"What she and I did was not right," Christian answered immediately. "I am sure of that."

"So, then, you're saying that it is more likely..." he led. He needed Christian to say the words.

Christian's broken voice hesitated then quietly said. "Then it has to be more likely that, what Elena and I did, was... wrong."

* * *

Christian was sitting in his office, not getting any work done. He hadn't wanted to be at home any of the last five days. He wasn't sleeping, managing only to eat out of need, not desire. He was feeling lost, and those were feelings he hadn't been acquainted with in quite some time. Not since he was fifteen. He was feeling all of his carefully calculated control slipping, and he needed to be somewhere where he felt powerful. So he'd been at his office near round the clock the last few days, attempting to use work to distract him. But he wasn't doing it successfully. Because even this place was providing him with no distraction worthy enough to get his session with John on Friday out of his head.

After John had succeeded in making him admit that what had happened between he and Elena could have been wrong, Christian had needed to get out. He cut the session right then and there thanking John for his time as he'd headed to the door. John tried only once to change his mind, to bring him back into the room to discuss it, but Christian needed time, and John knew better than to push. Christian had come to him this time for help; John had to trust that he would come _back_ when he was ready, as well.

But Christian wasn't ready to come back yet. He knew in the back of his mind that working this out with John was probably the one thing he _did_ need to do, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Admitting that what he and Elena had done was wrong had been one thing. Coming to terms with it, accepting it, talking about it was a totally different animal.

So Christian had done everything he could think of to avoid thinking about his newest revelation. He knew he was still furious with Elena, but now he was doubting himself and everything he thought he knew. He was dealing with so many things at once. Guilt and self-loathing about what he'd done to that girl. Betrayal about Elena's lying. Confusion and complete loss of control about the idea of Elena having done something actually detrimental to him has a teenager. And he didn't want to face any of it on any kind of official level.

His ringing phone brought him from his thoughts back into the present. He shook his head, pulling his shoulders back and answered it without even checking who the call was coming from.

"Christian!" his mother's voice yelled desperately through the phone the moment he answered her call.

"Yes. Mom? What's wrong?" he asked, worried. It was rare he heard his mother worked up to this extent.

"It's Elena. She's in the hospital. Oh, it's bad Christian. She was attacked. She has a fractured jaw, fractured ribs, a fractured wrist... I'm not sure of the full story but from what I've gathered, she was mugged! Mugged! Christian I need to get down there and check on her right away but I am in no condition to drive. Your father is in court and your brother is working on site. Would you please, please take me?"

Fuck! This was the last thing he needed! And now he would have to cancel his appointment because his mother needed him. He wasn't ready to face Elena yet, but he couldn't say no to his mother. He would do anything for her. _Anything_. He owed her that much, at the very fucking least. "Yes, of course. Are you at home?"

"Yes. Please hurry Christian."

"I'm on my way."

* * *

The ride to the hospital was a quiet one. His mother sat with silent tears coursing down her face every so often as she thought about the horrible things her friend had experienced- how scared she must have been for her life. The pain- goodness. The pain of all of those fractures. It must have been excruciating. Grace was just beside herself with empathy.

When they arrived, Christian walked with his mother up to the floor but stopped short outside of Elena's room.

"Aren't you coming in?"

Christian shook his head. "No, mom. I think it's best if only you see her. You know Mrs. Lincoln. She always has to look her best and be strong. I'm sure it's hard for her to let people see her this way. You're one of her closest friends, but she doesn't need to have me in there."

"Okay," Grace said, more worried about just getting in the room than fighting Christian's logic, which actually did make sense in a way. Elena was rather vain. She probably did not want people to see her anything less than flawless, even if it was under these special circumstances.

About fifteen minutes passed with Christian waiting patiently outside of the hospital room door. He was staring down at his phone, flipping through random emails, but not really reading any of them. He had a weird feeling in his gut. The idea of Elena in the hospital, badly beaten. He was still beyond furious with her for the antics she'd pulled, but there was this little piece of him that felt bad for her. What she must have endured- it sounded like it had been quite brutal. Even though he had conflicted feelings about her now, he'd had nothing but admiration and appreciation for her for the six years prior. So there was a part of him that was digging into the well of those feelings and feeling remorse for her rather than unsympathetic.

He was torn from his thoughts when the door to her room opened and Grace stepped back out. "Christian, dear, I have some questions for Elena's doctor. He's a colleague of mine and I think I can get some answers she is looking for if I speak with him directly. Would you please go in there and talk to her while I'm gone? I already told her you were out here and she insists she doesn't mind you seeing her in her state. Please? For me?"

Christian sighed, then nodded. "Please don't be long. I do have to go back to the office before the day ends."

"Yes of course," she said, squeezing his hand gently as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Now because of the jaw fracture, she cannot speak. She has a pad of paper to write on. The fracture is just hairline, but she knows that if she wants to refrain from having to wire it shut, she cannot speak. So make sure she doesn't try."

Christian nodded his understanding and Grace walked off. He heaved a deep breath before pressing his palm into the wooden door and entering Elena's room.

Immediately he cringed. She was a mess. Swollen. Bruised. But even with the horrific injuries, seeing her face again simply forced all the feelings of anger to rear back up inside of him. _A sixteen year old_. After all the trust he'd given her, for her to betray him still hurt worse than anything he could imagine. He had thought he had this one person in his life who knew him, _really_ knew him and accepted him for _who he was_. One person he could blindly follow anywhere, through anything, and she would lead him out unscathed. But she'd completely shattered all of that. Now he was finding out it was all a fucking lie. So instead of coming up with something, _anything_ nice or comforting to say to her, he unbutton the top button of his suit jacket and took a seat in the chair furthest from her bed, not uttering a single word.

He heard her move, heard the bed grunt and groan and she shifted to get his attention. But he continued to ignore her, until he heard the soft, muffled, "Christian," leave her lips.

Finally his head snapped to her, and she was pleading him with her eyes. But his grew stone cold as he said, "Elena. My mother had informed me that you are not to talk. I think that is for the best, as I have nothing to say to you anyway. I am here as a support to her and her alone. So please, just sit quietly until she returns and imagine I am not here."

Her eyes continued to beg, and she held out her hand, a folded piece of paper in it.

"I don't want to read anything you have to say, Elena," he said, refusing to get up and get the paper. He cast his eyes back down to his lap in an attempt to get her to stop. But she was insistent.

"Christian," her muffled voice came again.

He huffed, rolling his eyes as his jaw clenched. Fuck! Why couldn't she leave him alone? If his mother came in here and saw her talking, trying to communicate with him and him ignoring her, she would kill him. So begrudgingly, he hastily stood up, yanked the folded paper from her hand and brought it back over to his seat. He plopped down indignantly and quickly unfolded the paper, skimming the words quickly. But once he realized what he was reading, he went back and read it more thoroughly.

_Christian,_

_I need you to know the truth, but you will be the only one who does. My injuries were not the result of a mugging. My husband did this to me. He found out about us, Christian. He said he'd suspected I was doing something deceitful behind his back, so he had me followed. When he saw me with you, he said he rigged secret cameras in the house. He __**knows**__ Christian. So he did this to me. I begged him not to go public with it, because I know it would ruin everything you've built so far, and that is the last thing I want. He agreed, but only if I agreed to a divorce that leaves me with nothing but the apartment in Seattle. I get no money, no other assets, only the apartment, and that is just for appearances sake on his end so people don't think he left me homeless. So I did it. I agreed to walk away with practically nothing because I wanted to protect you Christian. He had the papers drawn up already, so I signed right then and there. He turned to leave, but then turned back and said he needed one more thing. Then he did this. I just needed you to know Christian. The paperwork I have states that he will never reveal the nature of the divorce. Legally, he cannot use the information against you. But I wanted you to know all of this, because it involves you too. I wanted you to know I did what I could. For you._

_Yours, Elena_

His eyes found hers again after he'd read it twice more. "Elena I-," but he was interrupted as Grace stepped back into the room. He folded the paper and shoved it in his jacket pocket, replacing the dumbfounded look on his face with a more impassive one. He stood up, not even hearing the words his mother was saying to answer whatever questions she'd asked the doctor. He snapped to when he saw her squeezing Elena's non-broken hand and telling her she was there for her no matter what. When she pulled back, he finally spoke.

"Please let me know if there is anything at all I can do for you Mrs. Lincoln," he said with a nod of his head in her direction. She scribbled on her note pad, holding up it up to reveal a scratchy 'Thank you'.

* * *

Later that evening, Christian was sitting in his study at his new home, Escala. He'd moved in just two short months ago and had yet to even furnish most of it. He needed to hire an interior designer to help him out. He simply did not have the time. Then he needed to consider a housekeeper of some kind. Someone to keep up with the place. Maybe cook him some meals. After all, he did have staff quarters. They might as well be used. But in the meantime, it was just him.

In the quiet of his study, his mind drifted to Elena, lying in that hospital bed after being beat to a pulp by her husband. Because of _him_. He couldn't believe Linc had found out after all of this time. Why had he suspected this now? After all of these years? Well, for whatever reason, he did. And if he'd set up cameras in the home, Christian had no doubt that there was incriminating evidence recorded of he and Elena's antics. The worst of it was confined to the playroom, but there was plenty for him to have seen outside of it as well. Shit! Did he know about the playroom too? Elena had very strict security for entry to it. It was in a room in their home's staff quarters so Linc never had any reason to explore the area. But if he had video showing them going in there, did he investigate it further? The questions were eating Christian alive. He did not like not knowing, especially when it was something that could make or break him.

Elena had truly saved him by agreeing to this. And in exchange for practically nothing? Just an apartment worth a half million, tops? No other assets, no money, no nothing from her marriage? How would she survive? Linc was worth tens of millions! Now she had nothing while Christian himself had so much, and without her none of it would have been possible. Really he had no choice: there had to be something he could do for her, to help get her back on her feet. He owed her that much, because of the hundred grand she'd given him for GEH and the shit end of the divorce she took to keep their relationship secret. But that was it. He still wanted nothing to do with her personally. He still wanted her out of his brain. He needed to gain control of his life without her influence. Because the more he thought about it, the more he realized that his control was an illusion, that she had been in control since the day she slapped his face and kissed him in her backyard. But that ended now.

* * *

Elena sat in her hospital bed, the muted TV flickering pictures in the otherwise dark and silent room. The pain was enough to keep her from getting any decent sleep, even with the strong medication she was given. At least she would be getting released from the hospital in the morning. Until then, she was finalizing her plan by composing an email to Christian.

She'd told Richard that she needed a month to find her own place and get her affairs in order. She needed to pack, furnish that God awful apartment to her tastes, and most importantly, disassemble the playroom at their home without him knowing.

God, the look in his eyes when she told him. He'd just come home from a long day in the office when she said they needed to talk. She'd long stopped caring for the man at all. And she did _used_ to care about him. Never love, because she didn't **do** love, but she had cared for him. She was a trophy wife. He was rich and she had been young and attractive. He kept her up in a lifestyle she had been accustomed to, and she opened her legs for him when he asked. That truly was the extent of her relationship with him. He knew it. She knew it. It worked for them. Until it didn't.

She needed a way to get to Christian. He could sense that she was going to lose him. She had already lost so much control when he'd decided to no longer sub for her, then even more when he decided he needed more from his own sub than she could ever offer. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before she lost it all together. When he had her out in the hallway, screaming in her face, she saw the look in his eyes- saw the wavering of his trust. It had been days without contact with him, of him ignoring her calls, denying her entrance to Escala and Grey House.

She just couldn't risk him pulling away from her completely, so she had to make the first strike. This was all for the greater good. Things would be bad before they got better for her, but if she could just manage to keep a hold on him, it would be worth it. She couldn't lose him, not after all the time she'd spent grooming him to her specifications. It had been five days since that night when that dumb little bitch opened her mouth and told Christian her age. And just like that, years and years of cultivating their special relationship were blown to smithereens. Elena could have choked that mousy little cunt right then and there. Yeah, that plan had backfired big time. In her desperate attempt to keep control over Christian, she'd definitely jumped the gun on trusting a green sixteen year old to secretly follow _her_ instruction rather than his. She hadn't given herself enough time to truly infiltrate and control little Anastasia's thoughts the way she did Christian's. It had been a mistake, and one that could cost her everything if she didn't find a way back into Christian's mind.

So she needed to get the upper hand back. And the quickest and most efficient way she could do that now was through her husband. The one thing Richard had asked for from her was fidelity, which she promised him unconditionally. So when she sat down and told him all about how she'd been sleeping with Christian, as expected, he went fucking ballistic. His stipulation for cheating was not because she had physically been with someone else. Not because Christian was a family friend, or too young, or anything like that. But because it would ruin him. Adultery scandals were always faux pas and more often than not, career killers. If word got out that his wife had committed adultery with Christian Grey, it would ruin his company. And in the end, that was the only thing Richard cared about.

It was a risk she was taking, hoping he'd react the way she needed him too. If he'd shown self-restraint, she would have outed herself for nothing. But she'd been on the receiving end of his anger before. He could be quite rough when he was angry. She'd been pushed, grabbed, squeezed for little infractions that had upset him in the past. But this was no little infraction. And the result of putting it out there sent him into a rage just as she'd been hoping for.

The beating- it had been brutal. Worse than she'd expected. But her arm, her ribs, her jaw would heel. Emotionally, she could care less. And physically she would recuperate. But now she had the upper hand. Now she was calling the shots. If he wanted to stay out of jail, he would do exactly as she said.

And he did. He's had his lawyer draw up emergency paperwork last night saying that he would never breathe a word of the affair. He had a hidden account set up in her name with five million dollar deposited in it. And he signed over the deed to their luxury apartment in downtown Seattle to her. In exchange, she wouldn't tell the police that he was the one who put her in the hospital. She would tell them she was mugged. And just like that, she was out of her marriage with cash to spare.

But Christian needn't know that. She would have to tell him about the apartment, but he wouldn't be able to find the money. Eric was an expert at hiding his cash. He'd been evading the IRS for decades with millions in unclaimed wages. So Christian would think she was broke. And she'd seen how he'd reacted in her favor when he read her note. She could read him so well after all these years. She had definitely gotten to him. He believed her, and she saw the subtle hint of remorse flash in his eyes for the situation she'd been through. She needed to jump on it fast, take advantage and lock down a solid agreement of his help before he had time to let outside forces, namely his fucking therapist, influence him and talk him out of helping her.

She needed to play the victim and lure him back in. Lock him down. Ask him for a favor, one that would tie him to her for life. She would ask him to back a business venture so she could get back on her feet. Back when she was young, fresh out of school, she'd gone to school to be a hairstylist. She'd quickly been snatched up by Richard and had no reason to work, but she could use that piece of her past to start a salon. All she needed was financial backing because she was 'dead broke'. And how could Christian say no? After all, she'd supplied him the financial backing to start his company when he was the one with nothing, _and_ she'd agreed to walk away from her marriage with 'nothing' for him.

So she'd set the stage, letting him know that this was Linc's doing. She told him that she did it for _him_. To protect _him_. Now she would ask him to support the salon. She was sure he would agree. And then they would be tethered together in business. There would be contracts that he could not break. He would have to see her. Have to have a vested interest in her thriving, because his name was on the company too. After all, she hadn't gone to school for business. She would need help. Advice. She would need to pick his brain about how to do and handle things, and she could stoke his ego by constantly reminding him how smart and strong and capable he is. Let him think she needed _him_ now, and his need for domination and control would have him pulling her under his wing. But she would be pulling the strings and having him eating out of the palm of her hand without him even knowing it. And eventually she would find a way back in to his personal life. She just needed the time.

With that, she put the finishing touches on her email and sent it off quickly.

_Christian-_

_Once again, I hate to have to ask you for this help. You know me, I don't like to rely on anyone for anything. I like to think of myself as a strong, independent woman. But regardless, the situation I am in now requires that I accept help from someone, and I would appreciate it most from you. The less people involved, the better, I'm sure you can understand and agree. Less chance of people getting involved in and finding out our very personal business. I have thought very hard about this, and I think the best way for me to handle this would be to start my own business- a high end salon- so that I can have something sustain me and keep me on my own two feet. I would just need you to provide the startup money, similar to how I did for you when you started GEH. Invest in me, and I promise you I will build it up into something you would be proud to have the Grey name attached to._

_Thank you so much in advance for taking care of me with regards to this, Christian. I know you are currently upset with me, but you know I would do anything and everything for you. HAVE DONE anything and everything I always could for you. I have helped you in so, so many ways, and I appreciate you being willing to give me a piece of that back. I have greatly enjoyed watching you grow into the strong, capable man you are today. I am so proud of you. It has been a pleasure watching you become what you are, after all you had been before. We take care of each other, you and I. I will always be here for you, and it gives me great pleasure to know you feel the same for me. I look forward to being in business with you. I hope I can learn from you (for a change) a thing or two about how to build and run a successful business. We are so good together, you and I. I am disappointed at the circumstances, but thrilled to be starting this particular venture with you leading me. _

_Yours Elena_

* * *

Christian felt his phone vibrate right when he had expected it to. He had his lawyer deliver the packet of paperwork personally, and knew Elena would contact him as soon as she received it, even though he'd included all the information she could possibly need. But he knew Elena would want to communicate with him. After that bullshit email she'd sent, where it sounded like she was attempting to top from the bottom, it was obvious she was trying to influence more communication between the two of them than he was willing to give. He felt responsibility here, but agreeing to back the salon released him of that. He was doing more than his fair share of making his wrongs right with her. This was strictly about business now. This was about a financial debt he owed her and nothing more. He had no interest in _more _with Elena fucking Lincoln.

So he ignored her incoming call as well as the multiple texts that followed. He'd had the paperwork drafted and sent over with a long, formal note, which was simple and professional and concise and had said everything he needed and wanted to say to Mrs. Elena Lincoln.

**The contents of this packet are for Mrs. Elena Lincoln from Mr. Christian Grey, regarding for the proposed high-end salon:**

_Mrs, Lincoln:_

_Enclosed is a contract I had drafted by my lawyers stipulating that I will provide the startup capital for the salon aforementioned. I will be a silent partner in this business, providing only financial backing for as long as necessary until the salon had reached financial stability to exist without my assistance. At this time, I will gift my portion of the salon to you, and you will own it outright. Everything you need is in this packet. I would like for Grey Construction to do any building/remodeling that needs to be done on whatever physical space the salon is to occupy. There is contact information for GEH accounting, as well as HR when you reach the stage of hiring employees. Anything else you need, I have left a number for Mrs. Lorena Hipp, who will be in charge of approving any and all financial expenditures to get things up and running, as well as supply orders until all accounts are established for the salon. Mrs. Hipp is who you will report to until the time when the salon is handed over to strictly your possession. I feel you will find this deal as a more than fair repayment for the financial backing you previously provided for me, and as long as you act shrewdly in your business decisions, I have no doubt you will transform this into a profitable venture. _

_Sincerely, _

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc._


	3. Chapter 3

"Why the extra session Christian? What's going on?" John asked as he settled back in his chair. The relationship he'd developed with Christian over the last six years sat on the razors edge of appropriate for doctor/patient. In any other context, he could consider the young man a friend. But as a doctor, it was unprofessional for him to befriend a client. There were boundaries to maintain in order to preserve the delicate balance they had. They'd been on a set schedule for years now, and a change in the norm meant one of two things- he was grappling with an external issue he couldn't control, or he was going out of town. Both were as likely as each other, so John never knew which he was facing.

"I'm leaving for Portland tomorrow evening, so I can't make the usual appointment. Just wanted to fit one in before I left," Christian said nonchalantly, crossing his right leg to rest his ankle on his knee, his left hand holding it firmly as he relaxed back into the couch.

"What's in Portland?" John asked, keeping the conversation light for now. Christian was always more talkative if he eased into the session. Let him talk about business in the beginning and he opened up better about everything else to follow.

"WSU. I'm conferring degrees," he said, wiping at a scoff on his shoe.

"That's quite an honor," John said. They didn't usually let you be a part of conferring degrees for nothing. They likely asked Christian to do it because he had done something beneficial for the university. John never passed on chances to point out when Christian had done something selfless. He constantly worked to build up the young man's self-worth.

Christian had come to him a Freudian nightmare… or dream… depending on how you look at it. He was at constant struggle with his id, ego and superego. Not to mention he had an Oedipus complex. John had had higher hopes for where Christian would be at 27 years old once he'd broken through to him about Elena Lincoln's manipulative ways. But Christian had spent more time in denial, and instead of moving into the proverbial light, he retreated into the proverbial dark. Logically he knew Elena had manipulated him, and that he shouldn't trust her and the things she'd said to him and about him. But it was too late. She'd already tainted him emotionally so badly with all the power she'd wielded over him for six such impressionable years. He'd already been touched so deeply by her evil that he still believed that he was undeserving of love, and that he couldn't live that life.

He'd ensconced himself further into the BDSM lifestyle, believing that it would give him the control he was desperately seeking. Ultimately, he'd felt humiliated that he'd let her take advantage of him all those years. He was mortified that he hadn't seen her true intentions all along and that he'd been so easily and unknowingly manipulated. It led him to pursue the dominant in himself even further. He'd spent all of this time crafting that persona in order to gain full control of himself again. He so despised that Elena had taken all of his control away, that now he was determined to have omnipotent control over every aspect of his life. John had tried to tell him that he could never have full control, and that what he needed to do was seek out the emotional connection and support of other people in order to feel whole. To start with his family, then move on to friendships, and ultimately, romantic relationships with women. But Christian always dismissed him when it came to this topic. Christian Grey needed no one. He trusted no one. And he controlled everything. End of.

* * *

"Rafael Soriano ... Steven Spencer."

They were at the tail end now. They were currently doing the last names beginning with 'S'. As soon as 'Zaborski' was called, he would be able to make his exit. He'd taken the obligatory pictures prior to conferring the degrees so that he would be able to slip out as soon as it was over. His speech had gone smoothly as always. He was a very competent public speaker. He'd listened to Katherine Kavanagh give her Valedictorian speech. She had come to interview him at GEH last week. She was a bright, driven girl and he was sure she would do well in the family's media business. Lord knows she had no qualms asking even the most, should he say… _direct_ questions. He had no physical attraction to Miss Kavanagh, but he'd be lying if he said his palm wasn't twitching when she'd so blatantly asked about his sexual orientation. But he had to hand it to her, she had a thick skin. Even his most severe glare hadn't so much as caused her to blink.

"Margaret Spratt ... Henry Stace ... Martina Starzynski."

After this he could head home to Seattle. He had work to do, as always. And every time he was out of the office during the week, even for one day, work piled up. He hated that, so he was always adamant about working remotely to keep on top of everything. He had personal business to attend to as well. Like finding a new submissive to fulfill the position left vacant about two months prior.

"Anastasia Steele."

As usual, Christian felt his whole body tense at just hearing the name Anastasia. It was the only thing he knew about the girl from his past- her first name. He'd heard it only a handful of times over the last 6 years because in truth, it wasn't a common name. But every time he did, without fail, he imagined those bright blue eyes brimming with sadness and tears as they stared into him.

He'd spend countless hours in therapy with Flynn trying to work through that day and the spiral it sent his life in to. He had guilt about fucking a sixteen year old- guilt about taking her virginity. That conversation inevitably led to realizations he had spent years denying. That fucking a young teenager was wrong. And if it was wrong for him to do it to Anastasia, then it was wrong of Elena to do it to him. The one person he had trusted had actually abused and manipulated him, leaving him covered in the stench of shame. He was angry to his very core about once again being a victim. These new realizations had sent Christian into a tailspin of self-loathing and self-doubt. And despite Flynn urging him to do the opposite, he withdrew further from the few people in his life who gave a shit about him.

He was desperate to feel in control after having all of it stripped from him when he'd realized the truth about Elena. His company was flourishing, but he needed a way to control his personal life. And being a dominant was the only way he could think to gain what he was desperately seeking. There would be no possible way to misconceive who was pulling the strings if he was the Dom in a Dom/sub arrangement. So he'd continued on with his desire to his train in BDSM clubs as a dominant, finding that with enough money he didn't need Elena to help him get in. When he'd taken on his first submissive in the first club he'd gone to, his instructor was horrified to learn about his introduction as well as how he was treated for the duration of his time as a sub. He learned right away in his first session that Elena wasn't following the near-sacred tenets of BDSM. Elena had not treated him the way she was truly supposed to. She had not cared for him the way a Domme was supposed to care for her sub. She had abused him by the standards of the lifestyle, as well as by the statutes of the law itself.

Going to the clubs and learning the true ways of BDSM had finally offered him the path to control which he'd been seeking. Initially, it had further heightened his guilt for how he'd treated Anastasia. If he'd really listened to her body's clues, he could have figured out that she was writhing in pain, not pleasure. He should never have chalked it up to- _well, she hasn't used her safeword_. She was brand new. He should have been more attentive to her needs. It was something he worked hard to provide for his subs from then on. He always worked to be attentive and attuned to what their bodies were saying, not just their mouths. Even if they didn't safe word, he would change tack if he noticed enough apprehension in their body language. Dom/sub relationships were about trust. That was the main thing he always tried to build with his subs now. He couldn't offer them much else- just orgasms, physical possessions, and trust.

So after learning the true nature of what a Dom/sub arrangement was supposed to look like and realizing that Elena had truly failed him in all ways possible, his therapy with Flynn had started to finally make some breakthroughs. He knew he could _never_ give up BSDM, despite what Flynn said. He could never have a normal relationship with his family, let alone have friends, and it was laughable for Flynn to say he could one day have a romantic relationship with a woman. It was the last thing he wanted anyway. To give someone else a part of the power? No. No fucking way.

But there _was_ a part of him that eventually started to seek something more than one night experiences with women he would never see again. He wanted complete control, and how could he attain it in a night? He wanted complete trust from his subs, and that took time to build. He knew some people had long term subs, but the idea of letting someone into his life like that was a big step with serious risks since he was a private man with so much to lose. He started to think of how he could fuse the idea of a long term BDSM arrangement with his own personal desire for solitude and lack of emotional bonding. Eventually he settled on the idea of taking on long term contractual submissives backed by iron clad NDA's. They would be at his disposal for just the weekends so as not to interfere with his work life. And they would be warned from the start that emotions had no place within their contractual encounter. This plan seemed to ease the ache for some sort of companionship while still allowing him to set the parameters for their physical and emotional distance, as well as satisfy his need for more long term control rather than simply settling for hardcore one-nighters.

And so through years of carefully and systematically cultivating his Dom persona and rules for his submissives, he'd found an acceptable balance that allowed him contact with another person while keeping himself in control one-hundred percent of the time. He'd become a master of his craft, as well as master of the business world, amassing a fortune even he himself hadn't expected. No one in his life dare cross him, dare question any decision he made. No one told him who, what, when, where, why or how, unless he asked, and if he didn't like their answer, he had the power to change it. Omnipotent control. He lived and breathed it. He owned it.

But hearing the name 'Anastasia' always inevitably brought all those old feelings of vulnerability and inadequacy rushing back. The name turned his control to chaos. He'd never known what had happened to that girl. He knew she'd cashed his check, but other than that, he hadn't wanted to know who she was or what she had done. Because it brought on the guilt of knowing what he'd done to her, what he'd taken from her. And he didn't want to look into her life to find out it had taken a negative turn, knowing it was most likely because of the mental trauma she had experienced at his hand. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing _her_ vulnerability, _her_ chaos.

Lost in thought, he was torn back to reality as he looked down at the graduate standing before him—looked down into the powder blue eyes. A lump formed in his throat.

This wasn't just any Anastasia.

This was **the** Anastasia.

She looked the same, just older. More womanly. Breathtakingly beautiful. But even if she hadn't looked simply like an older version of herself, he'd have known her by her eyes. He would never forget those eyes as long as he lived, no matter how badly he wanted to.

He heard her breath audibly catch in her throat as, upon seeing him up close, she immediately recognized the man in front of her. They both stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, staring into each other's eyes. Christian felt like she was seeing right through him, yet felt like he couldn't read her thoughts at all.

"Keep the line moving, please," the Dean next to him whispered.

Christian cleared his throat, gaining control over himself immediately. He straightened up, and held out his hand to shake Anastasia's just like he had done to every other student so far. "Congratulations, Miss Steele," he said firmly.

She, too, straightened herself up, but with less conviction than he had. She slipped her hand into his, both jolting slightly at the electricity they felt at the touch. "Thank you, Sir," she murmured. He winced at her use of 'Sir'. "For everything," she added softly, subtly holding up her degree, looking him intently in the eyes. Christian felt such a harsh sincerity in her words, seeing it in her eyes. _For everything_. **The money.** The money that had allowed her to do this- be here- graduating college. She had used it for school, just like she'd said she would. He nodded, so she would know that he understood her meaning, then pulled his hand from hers, turning toward the next graduate.

* * *

He was supposed to leave as soon as he was done passing out the degrees. That was the whole fucking plan. But he hadn't left. He had stayed in the background, watching from the stage as Anastasia had tossed her cap up in the air with the rest of the students around her, laughing, cheering, celebrating. When she filed out of the room with the rest of her graduating class, he'd discretely made his way off the stage and hung around in the marquee where everyone was milling about, talking with family and taking pictures with friends.

He found Anastasia, watching her hug a middle aged man who Christian would have assumed to be her father, except he remembered Elena saying her father had died. Maybe this was an uncle? He didn't know. But the look in the man's eyes when he looked down at her, eyes filled with reverence and pride, gave him a specific parental appeal. He watched Anastasia blush and wave off whatever words he was saying to her, kissing him lightly on the cheek. He didn't see anyone who could represent a maternal figure. Again, he remembered Elena mentioning an unfit mother. Maybe she had died sometime after he'd met her. Like his own unfit mother. He watched Katherine Kavanagh come running up, throwing her arms around Anastasia and the two laughed and hugged. Interesting that they knew each other.

A tall, young, blonde male approached them while Anastasia's back was turned. He looked older than the girls, but younger than Christian himself. He watch Katherine wink at him just before he grabbed Anastasia by the arm and yanked her to him, lifting her up, causing her to scream and squeal. She laughed when she apparently recognized him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. He returned the kiss to her hair as she slid her down his body, keeping his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She was the first to pull back, talking, watching as the middle aged man smiled and shook the hands of the blonde guy.

Christian found himself wondering why he was even watching this. Why he was interested in what Anastasia was doing? But part of him knew. He wanted to see how she interacted. To see if her life appeared _normal_. Deep down, he desperately needed to know that she was okay. That what they had done- what he had done to her- hadn't affected her in any way negative enough to keep her from living a happy life. It had been easier to pretend that she didn't exist all these years rather than constantly think about what had become of her. But he could no longer do that when she was standing right in front of him. She was here and she was real. And from all appearances, she _did_ seem normal. She had no problem showing affection to the older man, as he did with his own parents. She had friends, it seemed, when he did not. Possibly even a boyfriend in that blonde kid. A real relationship- something he'd never accomplished. She'd obviously done what she'd set out to do and graduated college- the only goal he knew she'd set forth for herself back then. So yeah, she seemed to have made it through no worse for the wear. She was lucky. Or strong. Maybe both. He felt an ache in his chest, wishing he could have lived out his life that way. But that was silly. His demons were much worse, he was sure. He would never, _could_ never be normal. It had to be good enough knowing that that dark side of him hadn't touched someone else and ruined them too. And this seemed proof, well proof enough, at least, that she was okay. Happy and normal and okay.

* * *

_What if she wasn't okay?_

This was the thought that was swirling around in his head as he sat at the desk in his hotel room that night. What if it was all just for appearances sake? What if Anastasia was actually suffering inside and able to put up a good front to fool her friends and family? Sure, Christian's façade wasn't one of smiles and laughing like hers was (if, in fact, it was a façade at all) but it was a façade none the less. Christian put up a wall around him to keep his family from knowing the real him. What if Anastasia was doing the same? What if inside she was hurting, in pain, in need of help to conquer the demons left behind by him when he stole her innocence?

He had to know. He had to know if the smiling Anastasia was the real Anastasia, or a mask for what she was deep inside. And there was only one way he could think of to find out.

"Welch. I need any and all information you can find on Miss Anastasia Steele. All I know about her is that she is a very recent WSU graduate. Approximate age of 21. I want it ASAP. This gets top priority."

"Yes, sir," came the voice from the speaker on the phone from his desk. He hung up as soon as he got confirmation that Welch was on it. Hopefully he could come up with something to put Christian's mind at ease when it came to Anastasia.

* * *

Christian sat in his study, nursing a glass of bourbon as he scouring the information Welch had just emailed him. It was 2 AM and his apartment was silent save the ticking of the clock on the opposite wall, but he was as wide awake as if it were noon. Scrolling through the document, Christian attempted to soak up any and all information he received.

The information included a graduation date of the past Saturday, confirming to Christian that it was all up-to-date. Miss Steele was currently living in an apartment in Portland with Katherine Kavanagh. Though the lease looked to be due to expire at the end of the month and it did not appear the girls had renewed. Either they were taking their sweet time, which irritated him immediately, or they were moving. He would have to remember to have Welch run this information again soon to see which answer was correct.

Anastasia's father was listed at Raymond Steele. But actually he was her adoptive father. Her biological father died during her infancy. She also had two other step-fathers listed: Steven Morton, deceased in 2005, and Robert Adams, current husband of and living with her mother, Carla Adams, in Georgia.

Further information on Raymond 'Ray' Steele showed he seemed to have fought for custody when Carla divorced him in 2004 but was only rewarded once a month weekend visits. There were multiple court filed documents showing he spent time in court repeatedly fighting that she was not allowing these court-appointed visits, constantly canceling them at the last minute. It appeared that the relationship between Mr. and Miss Steele was rekindled after she left the house for college.

Anastasia's current employment showed she worked at a hardware store in Portland. Again, if she moved and obtained a new job, he would need that updated information from Welch. She had no criminal record. Not even a parking ticket. Her name showed up in the local paper a few times for a few small academic achievements, as well as for volunteering in a soup kitchen during the holidays all four years she was at WSU.

Other than that, the dossier on her was pretty empty. There apparently wasn't much to Anastasia Steele, at least on paper. And that included the one thing Christian really wanted to know. Her past and current relationship status. She apparently did not have any social media accounts associated with her name. Those were usually a wealth of information about people. If she'd had one, he could have seen if she was involved with someone. He could have seen pictures of her life to see if she showed up on the arm of some boy, living a normal life. But of course Anastasia was making it difficult and giving nothing away. Welch noted he even went so far as to attempt to access Katherine Kavanagh's social media accounts to look for information. But she didn't have one either. Though he attributed that to her desire to work in journalism. It wasn't wise to have an Instagram full of pictures of you consuming alcohol and acting inappropriately if you were looking to take your name public as a legitimate journalist. So it was likely she steered clear of the whole thing in order to maintain appearances.

But the fact that Anastasia had a glaring bare personal life was a red flag to Christian. He knew more than anyone that having nothing on paper didn't mean nothing was there. He _wanted_ to see that she'd had boyfriends. He wanted to see that she'd lived normally following that horrible night. But she had nothing to prove to him that she had. What was she hiding? Was she unable to escape this lifestyle as well? Had she continued to involve herself in BDSM as a result of Elena's influence, just as he had? There were no records of her being associated with anything like that, but that didn't mean she wasn't. Anonymity was essential to people practicing Dom/sub relationships. Most people were unlikely to leave a trail if they were truly involved.

Christian groaned. He was so hoping that this information would put his mind at ease. But instead, it only heightened his concern. She didn't appear broken or any worse for the ware for her experience with him. She'd gone on and graduated college, just like she'd said she was planning, so that said something to him. He was still bothered though. Looks could be deceiving. His sure were. He wanted- no _needed_\- to know that she was okay, that he hadn't done permanent damage. Maybe he could meet with her, just once to make sure she really is okay. Through years of therapy with John, he'd learned how his relationship with Elena had set off many negatives events in his life. If that could happen to him, maybe it had happened to her. He just had to know if it had. He had to know, once and for all, what _really_ became of Anastasia Steele.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Anastasia Steele?"

"No, this is her roommate Kate. Would you like me to get Ana for you?"

"Yes, please," Christian huffed, feeling his resolve slipping already, and it was irking him. He didn't get flustered or whatever this feeling was.

"May I tell her who is calling?" Christian rolled his eyes.

"I'd rather you didn't," he said sternly. Katherine knew who he was. He didn't want her involved in this, if he could avoid it.

"Oookaaay," she drew out. "Hold please." He heard some rustling then a soft knocking.

"_Ana, phone's for you."_

"_Who is it?"_

"_He declined to say," Katherine said with a snarky tone._

"_Weird," _he heard Ana mutter as he voice became clearer, he assumed as she took possession of the phone. "Hello?"

"Anastasia?"

"Yes," she said with a little exasperated sigh that made Christian's palm twitch. "May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Christian Grey."

There was a pregnant pause, then Ana quickly said, "Hold for a moment please," before he heard her muffled voice say, _"Get out Kate, I need to take this privately."_

"_Well who is it?"_

"_Don't worry about it, okay? Please just let me take care of this."_

"_You owe me details!"_

"_Yeah yeah yeah just go!"_

Christian was getting impatient as he heard the door shut, then heard Ana's breathy voice say, "Sorry about that. What can I do for you Christian?"

"I'm sorry to bother you at home but I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to meet up with me. Maybe for a cup of coffee in, say, an hour?"

"I'm in Portland," she said, obviously confused.

"As am I," he said, giving nothing away.

"You're in Portland?" she asked, surprised. He had a feeling she just didn't know what to say because she had obviously not expected to hear from him. He didn't make a habit of repeating himself, but he'd give her a little leash here. He didn't want to scare her away from accepting his offer to meet by snapping at her for asking asinine questions.

"I am. I had more business to attend to here." The only business he had was related to Anastasia Steele.

There was a hesitant pause before she replied, "I kind of hand plans to go out tonight. My roommate is going out of town first thing in the morning the day after tomorrow. Can we do it tomorrow maybe?"

"I'm sorry, I will no longer be in town tomorrow. I'm scheduled to depart for Seattle in about four hours. I promise I won't keep you long. It is important to me that we speak, however." He couldn't stay here another day. He'd already canceled numerous things to fly here on a whim and see if she could meet. He wasn't really willing to accept no for an answer. He had to finally know the truth. As little as he already slept, he was losing even more sleep thinking about her, and he just couldn't have this interruption in his life anymore. He would get a confirmation that she wasn't emotionally traumatized by him, and he would finally close the book on this whole thing.

He heard the groaning of what sounded like the springs of a cheap mattress, then Ana said, "Okay. I can meet for a short time. Where would it be best to meet?"

"I can pick you up. I know a small café at which we can have some privacy."

"I'd prefer to drive myself, actually. If you come here, Kate will know and I'm not prepared to let her know how I know you. She spent weeks talking about 'Christian Grey' before her interview with you but I had no idea you were… you. Not until we were face to face on the stage. I don't want to have to answer any questions about any of this to her. And you've met Katherine Kavanagh. There will be questions."

Christian felt a small smirk grace his lips. Yes, Katherine had proved quite tenacious indeed. He didn't particularly want to answer any questions about his and Anastasia's past either. Least of all to a brand new aspiring journalist. "That's a fair point. I will meet you at Barista on 3rd in an hour then. Do you need the address?"

"No, I know the place," she said. "I'll see you then."

He disconnected the call without another word, then began to impatiently wait out the clock for their meeting.

* * *

He arrived first, but early, and she arrived exactly on time. He watched her enter the small café, her eyes searching the tables for him. He held a hand up, catching her eye and a small smile as she made her way to the very back table where he sat. He stood as she approached, then sat as soon as she'd taken the seat across from him, displaying years of ingrained manners.

"You look lovely, Anastasia," he commented politely. She was in nothing more than jeans and a V-neck t-shirt, but she wore it well.

"Thank you. You're also looking well," she returned with a polite smile. "And, please, call me Ana."

"What would you like me to get you? Coffee? Are you hungry?"

"Just a tea please. Bag out."

He nodded, rising from his seat again to retrieve their drinks. He was back in minutes, setting the cup of tea down in front of her and a black coffee down in front of himself. They sat in silence for a long moment before she spoke up.

"I was surprised to get your call."

He nodded. "If I'm honest, I was surprised to be calling you. Six years and I haven't had the urge to contact you once. But seeing you…"

He watched her rub her palms on the thighs of her jeans before her fingers twisted together on the table in front of her. "How did you get my number?"

He smiled with a dismissive shrug. "You can find pretty much anything if you want it badly enough."

"How badly did you want my number?" she asked, her eyebrow cocked and her head titled to the side.

"Enough to find it," he responded simply.

She rolled her eyes at his vague answer, which made his jaw tick in irritation. That was a habit he could not stand. There was another bout of silence, then Ana huffed lightly. "What is this about Christian? Why are we here?"

Clearing his throat, he took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. "I've spent a lot of time not thinking about you. Intentionally trying to erase you from my memory, for obvious reasons, I think." He watched her nod slightly before continuing. "But _seeing_ you- I just wanted to know you were okay."

"Okay?" she asked, not understanding.

"Yes. I feel a sort of-" he paused, looking for the right words- "I guess, culpability, still to this day, about what happened that night. I supposed what I really want, or _need_, rather, to know, is that what happened between us didn't set your life on a negative path."

A sympathetic and understanding smile graced her face then. She leaned forward, dropping her voice as she said with whole hearted sincerity, "Oh gosh, _no_ Christian. I've been living a great life. A completely wonderful, normal, sometimes boring life. After getting the money, I didn't have to worry about so much anymore. I was able to plow through my remaining high school years knowing my out was right around the corner. It made life bearable with my mother. And since then, I've been the epitome of average. A few good friends, a few innocent relationships, a part time job at a hardware store, and now a college degree. Trust me, my autobiography wouldn't sell a copy except maybe to my dad." She laughed lightly as she sat back, and he felt a weird tingle course through him at the sound. She looked carefree and beautiful as she settled back comfortably in her chair, tossing her long chestnut hair over her shoulder, that tinkling laugh lighting up her eyes as it left her perfect lips.

"I was worried I'd given your life a negative spin. I was worried I'd ruined you," he said honestly.

"Christian, what you gave me was hope. I need you to know that. I am **grateful** to you. I'm grateful for the money, grateful to be out of the life that I was in as a teenager, and grateful to be separated from the… lifestyle Elena started me in. You were right that night, I didn't want to be involved in that, at least not as a teenager. I am a firm believer in the 'to each is own' policy, but that wasn't something I should have been involved with at that age. You gave me an escape before it was too late. Before I'd gone too far to get out."

"Anastasia, I'm _so_ sorry—"

"Please stop," she pleaded. "Forgive yourself for this, Christian. I can imagine why you feel the way you do, and it actually is a sort of comfort knowing that you did regret it, that you didn't know my age and that you have felt badly about it all these years. I feel bad that you've harbored those feelings all this time, but it does speak for your character and integrity that you've felt this even after all this time. I know you never meant to hurt me. I know you didn't know. This doesn't make you a bad person. You seem like a good man. So please stop beating yourself up over this. I am fine. I'm better than fine. I'm happy, and I have you to thank for that."

"Don't give me so much credit, please. You are the way you are in spite of me, not because of me."

"No, Christian. Maybe in spite of _her_, but not you. I know now as an adult that I was victimized in that situation by Mrs. Lincoln. She used my age, my naiveté, and my home situation to convince me that my only option was what she was offering me. _You_ were victimized by her too in a way. She abused your trust, obviously, by not telling you. I know you didn't know. It was obvious that your emotions that night were genuine. She took advantage of the trust you obviously had in her."

"Actually," he said, shifting slightly. "It was more than that. Elena and I—she began a physical BDSM relationship with me when I was fifteen. For seven years I trusted her because I was under the impression our relationship was something it wasn't. But I didn't know better." Did he really just tell her that? He hadn't uttered those words to anyone outside of Flynn since he'd made the revelation six years ago? Still, it felt almost cleansing to admit it to someone else. Someone who could maybe understand rather than judge, because her experience was kind of in the same boat, with the name force of evil at the helm.

Ana let out a noise of surprise from her throat. "Oh! Oh my," she said, her face showing she was deep in thought. "Wow, Christian. I'm so sorry. But I guess it makes sense, actually. She is a master manipulator. But I'm glad to know you were able to eventually realize it and escape her and be normal too."

Should he tell her? Should he tell her while it was true that he'd cut ties from her personally, that she and he still had a business relationship? He'd already confided in her the basics of what the worst of what their relationship was. But no. He couldn't. He couldn't tell her that he still had those ties to Elena. What would she think of him? So instead he just forced a smile and gave a tight nod. "I've had other hardships in life- other abuses. Normal, at least in the whole 'Norman Rockwell' sense, is an unattainable state for me. I was a broken kid before Elena, and I am a broken man after her. I am an angry, bitter, unhappy person, Anastasia."

Her hand found his, her finger lightly resting on his and her eyes stayed trained on his face. "I don't believe that Christian. When I look in your eyes I see a sad man. But you are most definitely a compassionate man. And caring and generous. Your conscience has been eating at you for 6 years because of me. You helped me out of a situation when you didn't have to. You came here to check on me when you didn't have to. All that stuff you said in your speech at graduation- all the stuff you've done for others- those are not the actions of a man lacking care and compassion. I don't really know you Christian, but I would safely bet that you are, at the core, a good man. Everything I've seen about you so far confirms it."

"You're right, Anastasia," he said, straightening himself up and looking at her with a concrete certainty, "You don't know me. You know what I want you to see. But there is so much more you don't know. So much more that would obliterate your idea of me being a good man."

"Fair enough," she shrugged, leaning back a little. "But until I see that side of you, I won't think of you any other way than what I personally know firsthand."

"I won't let you see that side. This is the only meeting we will ever have. I am happy to see you are truly doing well. I won't risk ruining you again by allowing you a place in my fucked up life. The further you are away from me, the better. For your own good."

"I'd like to be your friend, Christian," she said honestly, her head cocked to the side as if she was trying to demonstrate her earnestness.

"We can't," he said with simple finality.

She looked down, then back up, nodding with a sad smile. "Okay. I can't say I'm not disappointed. I'm sure I would have enjoyed your friendship in my life. But that's your call." She stood, pulling a ten dollar bill out of her pocket and setting it down on the table. He opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off. "Goodbye Christian," she whispered, turning on her heel and leaving him sitting here in the cafe alone.


	4. Chapter 4

"Kate will be out in a minute. She's been in the kitchen all day and she's just finishing up getting ready," Elliot said as he led Christian into his living room. Christian just nodded, accepting the beer from his brother's proffered hand and taking a seat on the sofa.

"So. Two weeks. A new record, I think," Christian said. That was the length of this _serious relationship_ Elliot was currently in. Serious for Elliot anyway. If Christian saw a girl with his brother more than once it was worth mentioning. But this had been an actual boyfriend/girlfriend situation now for two weeks.

"I know, right?" Elliot grinned back, clearly not ashamed of his philandering ways. It was a point of pride for him. But Christian never saw the appeal in that. He got why Elliot wasn't into the long term romantic relationship thing. He was crystal clear on that. But the idea of bedding so many easy women had just as little appeal to him. At the end of the day, he wanted to know the woman he was dominating was home, safe, and alone. He wanted to know everything about her, whereas Elliot didn't even need a last name.

And apparently, a two week commitment was enough for Elliot to start dragging the people in his life to meet his newest conquest. Because that's why Christian was here, at Elliot's house, gearing up for what he was sure was to be a miserable night with his immediate family as well as Elliot's girlfriend's family- people he didn't know and didn't _want_ to know. A dinner party. A fucking dinner party to introduce Elliot to her family and vice versa. The new flame's idea, Christian was sure. Elliot would just as soon have invited her to Sunday dinner to do the introductions.

So now Christian was to be subjected to spending the evening with his family, as well as meeting his girlfriend's brother and best friend. Not even her parents, because apparently they were out of town. Just her brother and her best friend. Her allegedly 'hot and single' best friend, Elliot had pointed out. And if she so much as flashed a slutty little smile his way, he was going to say fuck it and call it a night. He had too much shit going on in his life to entertain the idea of spending one unnecessary second being forced into a matchmaker situation.

He'd been the first to arrive, albeit slightly early. He was always the most punctual one in his family. He sat on the couch wishing for an asteroid to hit the roof so he didn't have to be there any longer. The smells coming from the kitchen were questionable at best and doing nothing to assuage his distaste for the situation.

"Hey El, can you grab the wine out of the fridge for me?" he heard a female voice say as she approached them from the hallway leading to Elliot's bedroom. "Oh hi. Mr. Grey- Christian. I didn't know anyone had arrived."

Christian resisted the urge to sigh when he saw who the object of his brother's affection was. Katherine Kavanagh. The girl was not his cup of tea. Definitely not who he envisioned as the woman with whom his brother would want more. She was attractive to the majority of people, he was sure. And smart, he would give her that. But she was opinionated and obstinate and that was everything Elliot wasn't. How had they met, let alone hit it off well enough to decide to tackle an actual relationship? Unless this was just a one-night-stand turned more. Actually, that was much more likely.

Instantly Christian was just glad her parents couldn't make it. If he'd found out he needed to spend the evening with Eamon Kavanagh from Kavanagh media, he would have turned and left right this minute. Thank goodness for small graces, he supposed.

"Miss Kavanagh," he greeted with a polite nod is his head.

"Right. I forgot to tell you Christian. After Kate and I got to talking about our families, and she found out you were my brother, she said she'd interviewed you. I meant to tell you that you'd met her even before I had. Small world huh?"

"Quite," Christian said, his lips flattening to a thin line that was supposed to resemble a smile, but did nothing of the sort.

"Right," Elliot said, rolling his eyes at his brother and choosing instead to lavish his girlfriend with praise about her appearance.

Christian tuned them out, taking a drink from his beer. This was going to be a long fucking night. There was a knock at the door, and Christian felt his aggravation grow at just the idea of other people. Why had he agreed to this? He blew off Elliot's invites to things all the time. Even when it was just supposed to be the two of them. Why had he agreed to this night with strangers and first time family meetings, where conversation was the main event of the night?

"…probably Ethan and Ana," he vaguely heard, his attention snapping at the name. _Ana. _Anastasia and Katherine were together after the graduation ceremony. Surely she wasn't going to—

"Ana!" Elliot bellowed, his arms wrapping around a slight little body with a flourish of chestnut hair. He put her down, both of them letting out laughs as he stepped aside to let her in. "And you must be Ethan," Elliot said to the man now standing in his doorway holding what appeared to be come kind of baked good. "Kate talks very highly of you. Welcome to my home."

Christian watched them all exchange pleasantries. He recognized Ethan as the boy who was all over Anastasia following the graduation ceremony. So he was Kate's brother. And he could not be Anastasia's boyfriend, since Elliot had said she was single.

Fuck. He couldn't believe she was actually here. The updated version of Anastasia's background check had graced his desk about a week after he'd met her at the cafe. He was sure in its contents was the information that she was living in Seattle now, but he hadn't read it. He hadn't wanted to know. After their discussion in the café, he'd been eager to eliminate her from his mind once again. He wanted to be unaware of her location, of her occupation, of everything, just like he had been before the day she graduated. He now knew that she was okay, and that was all he wanted to know. Not where she was now living. Not where she was now working. If he didn't look at the updated information, he could pretend she'd moved anywhere. To Montesano with her stepfather. Or that she'd made amends and moved to Georgia with her mother. To Paris. To Sydney or Tokyo. _Anywhere._ He could bury their past once and for all. It was easier if he didn't know. He just wanted her out of his mind once and for all. And she had been. Until this moment.

Now, here she was. Standing in front of him. Now, she was living in the same city as him. Now, her best friend and roommate was dating his brother. 'Seriously' dating his brother. Did she know that he was Elliot's brother? Was she going to be shocked when she looked over and saw him sitting nonchalantly on the couch?

Finally, his brother remembered his manners and allowed the pair to move out of the doorway and into the living room. He took Anastasia's coat, leaving her in a mid-thigh length sweater dress, leggings and knee high boots. She looked casual but put together at the same time. In fact, that dress looked rather high end. Rather expensive. How could Anastasia afford such clothes? He'd had access to her bank accounts. She had next to nothing financially. She smiled at Ethan who slung an arm around her shoulders and headed to the living room. It was then that she made eye contact with him. But instead of his presence being a surprise, she didn't miss a beat, and gave him a small smile. No surprise in her eyes that he was here. No shock at seeing him again.

She knew. She fucking knew he was going to be here. Of course she knew. If Elliot and Kate both knew that he and Elliot were related, what were the chances that Kate hadn't mentioned it to Ana? They were roommates, after all. Best friends. He didn't pretend to know exactly what that kind of relationship entailed, but he knew best friends shared information far more personal than the identity of their boyfriend's brothers. The likelihood that Kate hadn't told her was slim to nil. So of course she fucking knew. He was serious when he said he wanted no contact between them in the future. Getting confirmation that she was okay and then subsequently being able to write her out of his life for good was one of the best things to happen to him in a long time. Hopefully she would heed his wishes from their previous encounter and steer clear.

* * *

Shortly following Anastasia's arrivals, his parents showed up with his little sister in tow. Everyone was all smiles, excited to meet the girl Elliot had deemed worthy of introducing to them. His mother was like a pig in shit over this. And every time her eyes fell on him, he could feel the question radiating off of her- _When will this happen for you?_

After everyone made their introductions, they took their seats around Elliot dining room table, probably the first time the thing had ever been used. At least as a table. If he had to put money on it, he'd bet Elliot had bent a girl or twelve over the table in the past.

Elliot and Katherine took the heads of the table. His parents and Mia sat on one said, and he, Ethan and Anastasia on the other. She was sandwiched between, the two, with Christian seated next to Elliot and Ethan next to his sister. "So Ana," his mother said, catching Anastasia attention. "Where are you from?"

She smiled, setting down the wine glass that was currently in her hand. "My early childhood was in Montesano. In high school I was around Seattle. I went to college in Portland, and now I'm back in Seattle."

"Where are you staying in Seattle?"

"Kate was nice enough to let me remain her roommate in her new place. It was her graduation gift from her dad."

Katherine addressed everyone else. "I love having her there. Ethan's staying there with us while he's in town. I like having people around. The place is too big for just me. Plus, Ana does practically all the cooking and cleaning of the whole place so it's worth keeping her around," she said with a wink and a laugh in Anastasia's direction.

"And Ana is a really good cook," Elliot added. "She quite often makes me breakfast in the morning," he said with a grin. Katherine smacked him playfully, blushing, while Grace shot him an admonishing look. Not that Elliot gave a shit.

"It's one of her many skills," Ethan piped up, sending her a wink. Anastasia looked down and blushed. Christian watched Ethan's eyes roam her for a moment before settling on the gap where her shirt didn't quite meet her skin. He'd been watching her like a hawk since they'd stepped in the door. He was clearing fawning after her, hanging on her every word. He had no class in doing so, either. No discretion whatsoever as he perused her body with his eyes countless times.

"Did you help cook tonight, Ana?" Mia asked.

Ana politely shook her head. "Nope. It was all Kate. I did make the dessert though."

"I can't wait to try your dessert. I'm sure it'll be delicious," Ethan said. Christian couldn't help but roll his eyes internally at that terrible line. Was he the only one picking up on this guy's lame attempt at innuendo? Did women exist who found that type of line appealing? Scratch that. Yes, they did exist. He was sure if he used that line, _any_ line, he could have hundreds, thousands, millions of women offering to be his _dessert_ for the night. Not that he would ever want a woman who was so easy. The looseness of a woman was inversely proportional to her attractiveness, in his eyes. If he ever were to pursue a woman, that is, which he wouldn't.

Christian watched Ana shrug off the comment. She either didn't care about his blatant flirting, or didn't notice it for what it was. She looked up, almost like she felt his eyes on her, and they caught each other's gaze. She tried to hold his, as she had a few times already this evening, but he was quick to divert his attention. The last thing he wanted was interaction with her. No conversation. No looks. If he could get through this dinner and leave without one more word spoken to Anastasia Steele, he would consider the night a grand success regardless of how miserable he was being here.

Luckily, Katherine put a stop to the inane chatter when she came out with the main course, a very large homemade lasagna. It was cut and distributed to everyone at the table. Wine was poured, sides of bread and a medley of vegetables served. And when everyone had a plate in front of them, Elliot raised his glass and toasted 'to food, family and friends' before everyone dug in.

Slowly the excitement at the table died down as everyone sat with their first bites of lasagna in the mouths. Nervous smiles flash back and forth. Hands reached for wine glasses and took long gulps. Throats cleared and napkins were reached for quickly.

Christian felt his own mouthful of food practically begging to be spat out on the table in front of him. What the lasagna lacked in flavor of any spices, it made up for in spades with _salt_. Lots and lots of salt. It was vile. Quickly he willed it down the back of his throat before joining the rest of the table in reached for his wine glass. Drinking down nearly half of it in one take, he cleared his throat, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth roughly.

Shit, he couldn't even get a half-decent meal out of this evening. Katherine obviously had no business in the kitchen. Why would someone who couldn't cook decide to make a large dinner for a room full of people? It was asinine.

"Oh my God," Katherine exclaimed as she took her own forkful of the food into her mouth. "Oh it's so bad. Holy shit."

Everyone at the table sat silently, not wanting to agree with her that the food she'd spend so much time preparing was inedible. "Ana," she whined, "What's wrong with it?"

Anastasia grimaced as she said, "It's a little… salty."

"Well I know that!" Katherine exclaimed. "But why? I followed your recipe exactly!"

Anastasia delicately wiped her mouth with her napkin before standing. "Show me what you did." Ethan stared as Anastasia's ass like it was a bottle of Fiji water in the Sahara. As she stepped away from her chair, his eyes caught Christian's and he winked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Christian just glared at him. Such disrespect of someone as genuine as Anastasia was appalling. He was as red blooded a male as any other guy out there, but there was a time and a place to appreciate the delectable body of an attractive woman, and it wasn't in front of a table full of people who can see you.

But Ethan's leers went unnoticed again by Anastasia as the two girls scurried off into the kitchen to try and see where Katherine had gone wrong, but there was no point. She'd added too much salt. No matter why, it had happened, and as a result the food was ruined. There was nothing that could be done to salvage it. Christian cringed at the thought of it all going in the garbage. What a horrible waste of food.

The two emerged from the kitchen moments later, Katherine with a distressed look on her face. "I didn't know there was a difference between a big T and a little t in a recipe."

"One is teaspoon. One is tablespoon. You were supposed to use the small one, not the big one," Anastasia said gently.

"I'm sorry everyone. I- It's ruined. I messed up and now everyone is hungry and I ruined the food," Katherine said as she plopped unceremoniously back into her seat, grabbing her wine glass and draining the remainder of the liquid quickly.

"It's fine. There's salad and bread. We can all enjoy that," Ana piped up with a smile.

Christian rolled his eyes. "This is a disaster," he mumbled. But not as quietly as he had intended to, apparently, because Katherine's head shot up in his direction. She blushed for a moment, before anger set in her eyes and she darted from the table with a huffed 'Excuse me'. Anastasia was quick to follow her.

Christian looked around to see the rest of the table staring at him disapprovingly, save his brother who was shooting him a death glare. "That was un-fucking-necessary Christian. She worked hard and it was an honest mistake."

"Yeah well this is just ridiculous Elliot. The whole meal was a catastrophe. And as a result, a huge waste of food. I don't know why you bothered to invite me." He didn't care about the look on everyone's faces. He was more than done with this evening and didn't give two shits was the gawking spectators thought of his attitude.

"Because I wanted my family to meet Kate. Because _you_ are a part of my family. Because I wanted _you_ to meet Kate," Elliot said through clenched teeth.

"If I met every piece of ass you had I'd never get any work done," Christian mumbled in reply before taking a swig of his wine.

"Listen, Christian. I know this is new territory for me. And if you don't want to believe me when I say she's is different, then don't. But I will not have you refer to my girlfriend as a piece of ass. I care about her. And if you can't get behind that and be happy for me, then I agree that you should leave now."

Christian felt the rare pang of guilt hit him. If he was the type of man who apologized, this would be the type of moment in which he would do so. But instead, he just watched Elliot turn away from him, plaster on a smile, and address the table.

"So everyone. My Katie is many amazing things, but I think we can all agree, her culinary skills could use some cultivating," he said, tossing a playful wink at everyone. "So I'm thinking we order some take out, maybe pop in a movie, and just get to know one another. That's what this was all about anyway. Just a casual meeting of the family. The night is still young. We can have some drinks and some laughs and just have a good time."

A chorus of contented agreement erupted from the small group left at the table just as Anastasia led Katherine back to the room.

* * *

"Seems like we might be seeing more of each other around then anyway, huh?"

He'd closed his eyes when he'd heard the balcony door handle click, then open behind him. He'd been sitting out there for close to an hour now, slipping away without anyone noticing, while everyone else talked and laughed and enjoyed themselves inside. He was lost in his thoughts, but there was a small part of him waiting for that click of the balcony door.

For years, or all of his childhood, really, various members of his family took turns trying to get him to join them for whatever it was they were doing—movie nights, family game nights, bon fires outside. And for all those years, he often turned them down for the seclusion of his bedroom. Then one day, when he was about fourteen and had been turning them down every single time for about a month, no one came. He remembered hearing Elliot and Mia laughing as they played basketball in the pool. His dad was cooking on the grill and his mom was sitting at the table enjoying the whole scene. He'd watched them from behind the curtain of his bedroom window and huffed, knowing sooner or later someone would come knock on his door and ask him to come down and join the family. He waited. And waited. He peeked out his window again and saw everyone sitting around the patio table enjoying hamburgers and iced tea. They all looked so happy. Father, mother, big brother and little sister. They were picture perfect. _Without_ him. He started to feel the swells in his chest- the hope that someone _would_ come to the door. But no one ever did. They just continued to enjoy the evening until it got dark, and they all came inside. After that night, no one pursued him to join the family anymore. They just left him alone. _Finally_, he'd tried to convince himself at the time. But he still would find himself staring at the back of his closed bedroom door, imaging someone coming and invite him down. Because if they didn't come, that meant they didn't mind that he wasn't there.

That was when his life really started to spiral out of control. He'd always told himself that the Grey family was too good for a fucked up kid like him. Elliot was so carefree and jovial and friendly. Mia was a burst of light and the princess of the family. His mother was a saint of a woman—a doctor for children for Christ's sake. His father, the firm but devoted head of the household. They were perfect. They were, all of them, everything that he wasn't and he never felt like he fit in with them. And that day when no one came to try and coax him from his room? He saw how happy and easy their family time was together. No Christian there to spoil the time with angry yelling and petulant complaining. No glancing looks between his mother and his father, which he always caught no matter how discreet they thought they were. No Elliot and Mia telling him he was no fun, telling him he needed to lighten up, telling him he needed to relax. They all just seemed genuinely happy when he wasn't around. No one seemed to mind that he wasn't a part of it. Maybe they _liked_ that he wasn't there. Maybe they preferred to enjoy their family time without him. Those thoughts fed into the view that he'd always had of himself—that he didn't belong in this family. That they were better off without him. Happier. More cohesive. They could relax and let loose and have fun.

Realizing that he'd just been proved that they were better off without him, Christian vowed from then on to keep his distance as much as possible and let them be a happy family unit without him. But there was a certain level of pain deep in his chest that came with this realization, and that had led him down an even rougher path. The drinking started. He started to really feel his attraction to girls, but he couldn't talk to them because he couldn't bear to be touched. He had no friends. Then the fighting started as a means of looking for interaction with anyone. That led to him getting kicked out of school after school after school, which only caused his parents to become more distressed and become more frustrated with him. This resulted in the idea of him not being worthy of becoming further engrained in his mind, and he withdrew even further. It was a vicious cycle. He was alienated from everyone and everything. He had nothing- _felt_ nothing but anger and resentment for his life and how it negatively affected everyone around him. He was like a parasite, sucking the joy out of everyone he interacted with. On his darkest days he wished he'd just starved to death in that shithole apartment with his whore birth mother.

And that was when he found Elena. Someone who understood him. Who understood how fucked up he was. She knew that he didn't belong with his family. But she showed him a place where he could belong. Where he could fit in and have control and have human contact. Of course, it was all a lie. He knew that now. But at the time it had been a lifeline. It had been acceptance and understanding. And he had been satisfied. For the first time in his life he had been as close to happy as he thought he could ever become.

And now it was a lifetime later. Years of therapy had only gotten him so far. He still did not know how to interact with the only four people in the world who even sort of knew him outside of GEH. His family thought he was better. They thought he was happy, because he had changed from that boy he was when he was fourteen. They hadn't know how, and they hadn't know why, but he had stopped acting out. He'd stopped being the angry, bitter kid that he was, and they didn't question why. He'd made something of himself. He'd become successful. That was more than they'd hope for him, so they cut their losses and ran with the idea that he was at least passable to society.

Flynn had tried to talk him into expanding his relationships with his family. He'd urged him to try to share more personal information, to try and form real, strong bonds with them. But Christian just couldn't. They thought that he was content now. They thought that he had tackled whatever demons he had as a teenager and had cured himself of those things when he was fifteen. How could he open up to them without letting them know that his outward appearance wasn't completely genuine? How could he let them know that the only reason things had changed for him was because of Elena? He couldn't. There was no way. So instead he focused on work. He put his energy into GEH and let him family go on believing that he was content with his life, just introverted. It was easier than letting them know even a fraction of the truth. To spare them that pain was worth every second of loneliness.

But still, days like today, when they were all congregated together and having a good time, he wished he could be a part of them. A piece of him, the little boy in him, wished he could share in their comfort and joy of family togetherness. Not out of a fucking balcony wishing to be wanted. Sitting out here on the patio had brought on the same feelings as waiting for the knock on his bedroom door when he was fourteen. Even Elliot coming to tear him a new asshole for his behavior would at least show that someone was thinking of him. That someone noticed he wasn't _there_.

But now someone had come. And he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, because this wasn't Elliot. It wasn't his mother, father, or sister. It wasn't any of the people he held a slight hope for being the ones to walk through that patio door. Instead, it was the last fucking person he wanted out here.

Couldn't she take a hint? He'd been ignoring her all night. Purposefully not speaking with her. She seemed smart enough. She couldn't be so dense as to not realize his lack of communication thus far was intentional. Especially coupled with the way they left things last time. He's made it more than clear what his position was on continuing any sort of connection between them.

While he was out here pining for the relationship he would never and could never have with his family, she was interacting with them like she was a long lost Grey. She was all politeness and delicate beauty. She'd won them over as soon as she opened her demure little mouth. She was respectful and friendly, charming and engaging. They loved her. Elliot and she laughed often together, poking light fun back and forth the whole night like true friends do. Mia was desperate get to know her, asking for her number so they could grab lunch and do some shopping. His parents were both clearly taken with the girl, listening intently to her every time she spoke. And Christian hated it. He fucking hated that they were all wrapped around her little finger. She fit in better with his family than he did. And no one here was paying him a fucking ounce of attention the whole goddamn night.

Except for her.

Every time they would accidently make eye contact, she kept trying to hold his gaze and smile. When he did speak, which was only to answer questions asked specifically to him by his family, she listened intently. Hope seemed to flit in her eyes every time they made contact with his, as if she was wishing for him to strike up conversation with her. He didn't want his family to converse with her, let alone to do so himself. He wanted her out of his life, not schmoozing with his family.

He didn't want her attention. He didn't want her breathing the same air as he did. She'd wanted a friendship, she'd said that that day at the cafe. Like fuck was that going to happen. One look into her big blue eyes and he could see she still exuded all that was good and pure and innocent. No way would he risk tainting her with his life again. No way would he let her in, befriend her (if he could even figure out how to do that) just to end up ruining her now. He didn't come all this way to finally find out she hadn't been dirtied by what he'd done to her in her youth, just to cause distress in her life now. And he would. If he maintained any type of contact with her, he would only introduce a negative influence into her life. She would find out about everything he was, and everything he wasn't, and she would surely be appalled. There were no redeeming qualities about who he was as a person. He could donate to all the charities in the world until he was penniless, but he would still be a mockery of a human being. He was heartless and cold. He had nothing to offer her life but eventual anguish. He would cause her perpetual grief until she finally became revolted enough and ran.

Worse than her just finding out what kind of a person he was and running, would be if she found out what kind of a person he was and _stayed_. He could read people well, and she was a kind and gentle person. If he didn't taint her and send her running for the hills, forever touched by his darkness, it would only be because she stayed out of some sort of misplaced obligation to heal him. But Christian Grey could not be healed. For someone to heal, they would have to have something to heal. A heart. A soul. He had neither. He was lucky to have escaped harming her before. He couldn't make that mistake again.

He needed to make her want to stay away from him. He needed to do something to drive her away. Just because Katherine was dating his brother didn't mean she needed to interact with his whole family. Elliot, sure, she would most likely form some sort of friendship-based relationship with him. Elliot could befriend anyone he met. He was just that type of guy. So he was sure that he and Anastasia would form some type of friendship as long as Katherine and Elliot were together. But his sister? His mother and father? There was no reason they all needed to speak beyond this evening. There was no reason for Anastasia to be anything other than 'that friend of Katherine's everyone met that one time'. And if he could make her uncomfortable enough around him, then maybe he could make her want to decline any further invites to Grey family get-togethers. Just for the sake of avoiding that asshole, Christian Grey. Hopefully she would take the hint that he'd been less than friendly toward her and stay away from here on out.

So he didn't turn to face her, when she came out onto the balcony and spoke to him. He just replied with his back to her while he kept staring out straight ahead to the city in front of him. "I don't see why that would be the case, Anastasia."

He heard the patio door click closed, then felt her presence move closer, but he still did not physically respond to her. He could feel the tension she was radiating though. She was trying to seem calm and confident, but he could feel it was wavering. "I just figured we might run into each other at events like this. I don't know how much you see your brother exactly, but he and Kate are attached at the hip. And Kate and I spend a lot of time together. So I figured sometimes meetings may overlap and we would find ourselves in each other's company again." When he didn't respond after a moment, she said, "I'm just saying a friendship might be on the horizon for us after all."

"I hope what you've described is not the case," he said coldly, taking a slow drink from his glass, the ice clinking as he brought it back to the balcony ledge. "And regardless, a friendship between us will never exist."

"Oh," she said softly. There was another long pause, before she boldly stepped next to him, resting her elbow on the balcony ledge inches away from his glass of bourbon. "I'm still not sure I understand _why_."

He closed his eyes slowly, his jaw clenched as she tried to reel in the biting anger he was feeling at her unwillingness to just walk away. Why the fuck was she questioning him? Who _ever_ fucking questioned Christian fucking Grey? No one. No one ever did.

"The why is none of your business," he practically growled, "But since you asked..." He turned to her now, looking her up and down, from head to toe slowly. He watched a blush creep up her chest and neck. "I see you like nice things. Those clothes are obviously designer."

"I... They're Kate's," she said, clearly thrown off guard about where he was going with this.

"It must be nice to have her to keep you in the finer things in life. Nice clothes. A nice condo to live in, which I am sure you do so rent free, seeing as you have no money of your own. You've been living off Katherine's family wealth for the last four plus years." He watched the blush darken even further into one of embarrassment.

"Kate's been very generous," she said softly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And what happens when Miss Kavanagh decides she no longer wants to support you? What happens when she's sick of being used by you for your own selfish financial gain and she asks you to move out and you have to take care of yourself? What happens then?"

"I'm job hunting. I have interviews this week. I will make my own way in this world like everyone else, Mr. Grey," she said, her tone more confident.

He let out a biting, mocking laugh. "In publishing? You're interviewing as an assistant, no doubt. Hardly a position worthy of providing you with the financial capabilities to keep you in the lifestyle to which you've become accustomed over the last four years. It'll take you years to get anywhere worth getting in the world of publishing, assuming you have the talent and skills to even qualify you for one of those coveted jobs in the first place. The very best you have to hope for is a medium pay scale with a mediocre lifestyle."

She blinked rapid at him, shock so clear in her eyes he could almost taste it. "Books are my passion. Publishing is more than a paycheck to me. I'm a simple girl, Mr. Grey. I don't need the fancy apartments and clothes to be happy."

"And yet, here you are, taking full advantage of them."

"I'm not _taking advantage_ of anything. If Kate lived in a hole in the wall, I'd live there with her. She's my best friend. Living with her has everything to do with our friendship, not her social status."

"Ah, yes. Her _social status_. And quite a status it is, no? Heir to the Kavanagh Media fortune. Not that Katherine isn't impressive in her own rite. She was the Valedictorian of her class, so she'd obviously smart, focused, and driven. She was able to procure an interview with me, which I know how hard that is to do, so she has charisma and tenacity. And you must admit, she's strikingly beautiful, no? She's the complete package. And you are, as _you_ said, just a simple girl, right Miss Steele?"

He watched her swallow hard, the look on her face like she had just swallowed something rancid. Something in the pit of his stomach flipped, knowing he'd been responsible for that look. His words were harsh, he knew. But he needed to say something bad enough to make her go away. But as quickly as the look had appeared on her face, it was gone as she corrected her expression back to a tight lipped smile. "Kate is all those things and more. She is amazing."

Oh, Miss Steele. Why was she making this so fucking difficult? "And now she's with my brother. A Grey. An entrepreneur for his own flourishing construction company. Son of a fantastic doctor and prominent lawyer. The Grey's have quite the presence in Seattle. The Kavanagh's obviously have widespread influence as well. Where does Steele fit into our world?"

Instead of being forced to feel even lower than he'd made her feel already, her eyes snapped back to meet his. This time dead on, with no trace of backing down whatsoever. "I may be a simple girl. But I am damn proud to be a Steele. It may not be as prestigious as the name 'Grey' or 'Kavanagh'. But it's a name I wear proudly. It has given me more than anything else in my life. Safety. Comfort. Loyalty. Love. I'd take that over condos or clothes or billions of dollars any day of the week, Mr. Grey. And Kate may be a Kavanagh and Elliot may be a Grey, but they are good people. Really good people. As I think you are. I don't know what all of this is about Mr. Grey. I don't quite understand why you're condescending to me and seemingly trying to hurt me by making me feel inadequate. But I assure you I know my place in this world. Between the two of us, it's you who seems more lost and me."

The shock that rippled through him as her blue eyes bore into his, saying there words that pierced straight through to his soul, was short lived. Quickly he composed himself, shifted his body, wrapping his fingers tightly around the banister, his hands on either side of her body. He loomed over her, his eyes as cold as they'd ever been, staring molten grey down into her.

He saw her body sway back, but there was nowhere for her to go since he had her essentially pinned against the guardrail. "Are you trying to intimidate me?" she asked, the slight quaver in her voice picked up by his well-trained ears.

"Doesn't look like trying so much as succeeding. You should have listened when I said I didn't want to see you again. I wasn't fucking joking. I don't want you in my life. I don't care what happens to you from here. You are the worst memory I have in my entire life. Get it? **You** are my biggest regret."

"You're acting like that night was my fault. Last time I saw you, you were all 'I'm sorry, I hope I didn't ruin you' and now- who are you and why are you acting like this? This is not the man who saw to me that night, or the man I had coffee with."

"This is me. The real me. Christian Fucking Grey. The Dominant who ripped your virginity from you when you were a doe-eyed sixteen-year-old. **That** is who I am Miss Steele."

"No it's not," she said softly, all traces of fear gone as she looked at him with- what? Sympathy? He felt a shudder try to work its way up his spine but he refused it. Fuck, the way she was looking at him, like she could see right through him. All his control, all his intimidation, all the techniques he knew were no match for this girl. He felt so exposed in her gaze. Like she could see everything in him that he never wanted anyone to see. It made him feel sick. It made him feel-

"Hey, what's going on out here?"

"Nothing," Anastasia said, turning to Elliot with a smile.

Elliot looked at the two of them, clearly not believing them. But he didn't push. That was Elliot. If it wasn't his business, he didn't pry. So he just nodded instead. "Well my parents are leaving and wanted to say bye to you, Ana. And then we wanted to play beer pong but need a fourth. You in?"

She grinned and nodded, stepping through the door as he held it open for her. And without so much as a glance back in Christian's direction, he followed her back into the house, leaving Christian out on the balcony, alone once again.

No invite to join them as well.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm impressed," Christian said to the middle aged man sitting across from him. The man grinned, sitting back in his chair across from Christian's desk, crossing one leg over the other. Smug. He was now looking very smug.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey."

"No, really, Mr. James" Christian said, picking up the folder in front of him and holding it up. "This is quite possibly the single worst proposal I've ever seen in my entire time as CEO of this company." James' smug fucking smile was gone in half a second. "I'm impressed that you've kept your job for this many years, putting out shit like this. I'm impressed that you've managed to keep your severe ineptitude for your position under wraps for this long. But today is a new day, Mr. James. And today I see you for what you are. And if this is your worth- if this," he spat, nodding at the folder in disgust, "Is the best you can put together when you know you are coming for a private meeting with the CEO of the company you work for, then I think we both know you no longer deserve the position you hold within that company. My company."

"Are you firing me?" James shrieked in the most unmanly manor Christian had ever heard.

"Yes, Mr. James. I am." He pressed the button on his intercom system. "Andrea, please notify HR that Mr. James is being let go from his position. And notify security that he needs to be out of the building within the hour."

Christian watched James stand slowly, his mouth still hanging open in shock at the events that had just transpired. Picking up the folder, he, looked it over again. Fucking worthless garbage.

A knock on his door pulled his attention away. "Come in."

"Mr. Grey," Andrea said, walking into his office with her usual confident body language. But something in her eyes seemed unsure. "I'm sorry sir. I answered a call from a number very similar to the number your mother often calls from while she's at the hospital. I incorrectly assumed that it was she who was calling to speak with you."

"So hang up on them, Andrea," Christian said, immediately irritated that Andrea was bringing this to him. If they weren't on the proscribed list of acceptable calls, then don't take the fucking call. The last thing he needed was to be bothered with calls from people he didn't know. That's what Andrea was hired for- to field those calls so he didn't have to.

"Sir, it was actually a nurse from the hospital and she was very insistent that she speak with you. She says she needs to notify you of her patient's admittance to the hospital."

"What? Why?" He asked, confused.

"I don't know, Sir. She wouldn't tell me the name of the patient. She wouldn't answer any of my questions, really. She just kept reiterating that she needed to speak with you personally."

He rubbed his forehead, running his fingers through his hair. "Fine. Send it through."

"Yes, Mr. Grey," Andrea said, a look of relief on her face as she turned and hurried out the door. A moment later, his desk phone rang.

"Grey," he said roughly, irritation evident in his tone.

"Mr. Grey, this is Bethany Herman at University of Washington Medical Center."

"Yes, Miss Herman, what is this about?" he snapped.

"Mr. Grey, I have a patient here, a Miss Anastasia Steele, who has been admitted to the hospital after being hit by a cyclist on the side of the road."

_What?_ Anastasia was in the hospital? She was hit by a cyclist? Why were they contacting _him_?

"Is she okay?" he asked, first and foremost.

"Yes, Mr. Grey. She will be fine. She sustained mild injuries. Some scrapes and bruises. Bruised ribs are the worst of her injuries."

"I'm afraid I don't understand exactly what led to me being contacted on her behalf. While I do know Anastasia, she and I are not in any way close. And if she is well, I don't understand why I am being contacted."

"She came in to us a little banged up but not too worse for the wear. We treated her with sufficient medical care, as necessitated by law. We cleaned her up and gave her some pain management. Unfortunately it had an adverse effect on her. She became extremely disoriented before losing consciousness. On her admission paperwork, she had given us the number for a Miss Katherine Kavanagh to call in case of an emergency. Miss Kavanagh was contacted when Miss Steele reacted adversely to the medication. Miss Steele will be fine, but she needs to be escorted home just as a precaution. Unfortunately, contact with Miss Kavanagh revealed she is in Barbados. She was very distressed, trying to figure out who she could get to take Miss Steele home, when a Mr. Elliot Grey took the phone and supplied us with your number. He said you would be able to provide Miss Steele with a ride back to her home. Is that going to be possible Mr. Grey?"

"I suppose so," he said, frustrated. Why exactly was this falling on his lap? He had a very full day today to be running out in the middle of the day to handle this shit. Shit having to do with a woman he did not want to see, or even think about, for that matter.

"Great. And if possible, Mr. Grey, bring a change of clothes for Miss Steele. Hers were damaged in the accident. They are wearable, if you are unable to gain access to her clothing, but they are torn and dirty."

"I'll handle it," he said brusquely before disconnecting the call.

What a clusterfuck. Elliot gave his number out? Why? Couldn't they have called someone else for her? Her father? Well, no, he was in Montesano. Her mother was also a non-option. Other friends? Did she have other friends here? What about that Ethan? Oh wait, he was Kate's brother, and therefore probably on the family vacation in Barbados. Why did the only three people she knew in Seattle have to be in Barbados? Was there really no other option than him?

Truthfully, all they were asking for was a ride. He could easily just have Taylor send Sawyer to pick her up and take her home. That would be much easier. And wouldn't be nearly as disruptive to his day. His finger hovered over the button which connected the intercom to his and Taylor's office.

But then he paused. Was Anastasia actually okay following this complication with her medication? He didn't remember the nurse specifically stating that she'd regained consciousness yet. If she hadn't, and when she did, she might be frightened. It probably wouldn't help for her to wake up with a strange man in her room who was offering her a ride. Especially one as intimidating as Luke Sawyer. Then she would be going to an empty apartment. There would be no one for her to call. No one to support her through this little situation she found herself in. Could he really just have her picked up and left on her doorstep like that? Making the quick decision, he pressed the button.

"Sir?"

"Taylor. I need to go to U of W hospital immediately."

"Sir? Are you alright? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Miss Anastasia Steele has been in an accident and is currently being treated there. Her emergency contact is Miss Kavanagh, who as you know, is in Barbados. Elliot has given them my information and they are requesting I give Miss Steele a ride back to her home."

"Would you like me to send Sawyer, Sir?"

"No. Taylor. I will be going myself. Oh, and Taylor, we need to stop off at Niemen's and get Miss Steele some new clothes."

"Yes, Mr. Grey. I'll call ahead to Caroline Action to have an outfit waiting for us to pick up on the way. I'll be in your office in five."

* * *

"Christian Grey for Anastasia Steele," he told the woman at the nurse's station to which he'd been directed.

"Yes, Mr. Grey. My name is Emily Wilson and I'm from the Patient Accounts and Billing department. If you could wait out here a moment. Miss Steele just woke up and I was just about to speak with her regarding the financial aspect of her stay here."

"What does that mean? She just awoke and you're going in there to give her the bill? Do you make a habit of discussing the bill with a patient in that manner?"

"Not usually, Mr. Grey. However, Miss Steele does not have medical insurance, and therefore her bill will be quite large. We need to set up how she will go about paying the hospital," she said simply.

"Right now? She was just hit by a cyclist and had an adverse reaction to medication leaving her unconscious, and when she wakes up you want her first thoughts to be the stress of trying to come up with the funds to pay a damn hospital bill? What kind of place is this? I am appalled by the lack of emotional care you are providing here."

"While I understand your concern and appreciate what you're saying, Mr. Grey, we cannot risk her skipping out on the bill. It's hospital policy to set this up at the first available time."

"So you'd rather put more stress on her while she's physically weakened. That's deplorable. Here," he said, reached for his wallet and pulling out his AMEX. "Put her entire bill on my card."

"Mr. Grey," she said in shock, "I don't even know how much it will exactly total right now, but I can assure you the amount will be-"

"I could give a fuck about the final dollar amount. It's irrelevant when weighed against the impending anxiety this conversation is sure to have on her. Put. it. on. my. card."

"Yes, Mr. Grey," she resigned, jotting down his card information on her clipboard and handing it back to him.

"May I go in and see her now?" he spat, putting his card back in his wallet.

"Yes, Mr. Grey." He didn't acknowledge her again as he turned and walked in the door of the hospital room.

When he entered, he saw Anastasia standing next to her bed. She was in a pair of jeans which had a large tear in the thigh, dirt up the sides. Her hair was tangled and disheveled, shoved into a mess bun on the top of her head. She was holding a shirt out in front of her, inspecting the damage, which was quite apparent. It was scraped and scoffed, with rough tears through the fabric and a rip in the collar. But Christian only noticed it for a fleeting second before his eyes landed on her torso. She was wearing a white lace bra, her smooth, pale, creamy skin otherwise naked from the waist up. She had some abrasions on her skin, and a purpled area covering a sizeable portion of the backside of her ribs, ending where her waist tapered in before flaring out again to the hips that the jeans hugged so perfectly.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor said behind him, attempting to hand him the bag from Neiman's. But when he spoke, it drew Anastasia attention to him. She looked up to see him standing there, watching her intently as she stood shirtless in the middle of the hospital room.

"Christian!" she shrieked, "What are you doing here?" She turned her back to him as she desperately tried to yank the shirt over her head. He could see her whole back flame up a delicious red with her embarrassment. Her modesty was refreshing, and the blush caught him off guard for just a moment before he recovered himself.

"Don't bother with that shirt. I have new clothes for you," he said, taking the bag from Taylor and holding it out to her.

She stopped trying to pull the shirt on and instead pressed the material against the front of her body before turning back to him in surprise. "What? Why?"

"I was contacted by the hospital to give you a ride home. They informed me your clothes had been damaged. Obviously having no access to your apartment to get you your own clothes, I opted for Niemen's," he said, still holding the bag out to her. But she was just staring at it like it was some foreign object that she had never before seen.

"Why did they contact you?" she asked, obviously as dumbfounded as he had been when he'd gotten the call.

"Apparently they contacted Miss Kavanagh first. My brother was with her, and gave them my number."

"Why?' she asked again.

He sighed loudly in frustration. "Because everyone who you know in Seattle is in Barbados, Miss Steele. Now would you like a ride home or shall I leave?"

She immediately looked contrite, gripping the ragged shirt more tightly to her chest as she blushed. "I'll take the ride. Thank you." There. That was more like it.

"You're welcome. Now please, take the bag. I will wait just outside while you get dressed."

She hesitantly took the bag from him and he turned on heel, pulling the curtain closed as he moved to wait in the doorway.

"Holy shit. $200 for a shirt? Really?" she called back out to him. "I'm going to leave the tags on and give this back to you when we get to my place. You can try and return it." He couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face at her mini-rant. Like there was any way in hell he would walk into Niemen's with a worn shirt and try to return it, whether it was $200 or $2,000.

Moments later she yanked the curtain open and stood in front of him, still in her torn jeans. "I'm not wearing the jeans. $400. Four HUNDRED dollars. For jeans. I can't even-. I left them in the bag. You can return them with the shirt."

"Keep the clothes Anastasia. The cost is of no consequence to me." Did she not realize who he was? What he was? Six hundred dollars for her clothes was nothing.

"It's Ana. And not a chance. I appreciate the gesture, but I just cannot keep these things. It's outrageous."

"Anastasia—"

"Chris," she said in the same tone.

"Don't," he warned. He didn't like her calling him Christian. But Chris? Hell no.

"Then don't call me Ana_stasia,_" she smirked.

"Miss Steele, you are quite exasperating," he said with a sigh.

"Then let's get me home so you don't have to deal with me anymore," she said, seeming anxious to get a move on, seeing as she was walking out the door before her sentence was even finished.

"I'll agree to that," he said, watching her eye Taylor up and down as she almost bumped into him right outside the door. "Anast—Ana. This is my personal CPO and head of security, Taylor. He will be driving us to your condo."

"Taylor. Military?" she asked, looking him up and down.

"Marines, Miss Steele," he confirmed.

"Well it's nice to meet you, and thank you for your services in both the Marines and as a chauffeur. Though I appreciate one more than the other. I'll let you try to guess which," she said with a smirk.

Christian almost had to do a double take as he saw the grin break out on Taylor's face for a split second before his stoic expression returned. "My pleasure to do both, Miss Steele," he replied evenly, but with a slight twinkle still in his eye. Had Taylor ever smiled like that in his presence before? Not that he could recall.

The three moved to leave when a nurse popped up out of nowhere. "Miss Steele! I told you to wait in your room. I haven't officially released you yet."

Anastasia groaned. "The doc said I could leave as long as I didn't drive. And I'm not. Taylor is," she said, pointing him out.

"Yes, I know. But I want to assess you again and assure that—"

"I'm assuring you I am fine. I told you that before."

"I know you _said_ that but—"

"I _said_ it because it's true. Please, I just want to go home," she insisted.

"Has her physician officially signed off on her discharge?" Christian asked, trying to move this along. If Anastasia wanted to leave, and the doctor said she could go, why was this nurse pushing the issue so hard?

"He did, but—" she started, clearly getting frustrated.

"Then we shall be going," Christian cut her off with finality.

The nurse threw her arms up in the air and huffed. "You know, I'm just trying to do my job. Do either one of you have an RN after _your_ names?"

"I appreciate you trying to do your job, but I really just want to go," Anastasia said, her tone almost pleading.

"Fine. Fine then," the nurse said in resignation. "But don't say I didn't warn you. And I have you three as witnesses that I tried. Will you at least go down in the wheelchair? It's policy."

"Fine," Anastasia huffed, crossing her arms but sitting in the wheelchair as the nurse's assistant brought it up behind her. Taylor left to go pull the car around to the patient pick up area. Hopefully Christian could be back at work within the hour.

* * *

Traffic was terrible. This was the absolute worst time to make the trip from the hospital to the area where Anastasia lived. He was hoping for a quick trip so he could wash his hands of this whole thing, but that didn't seem like a possibility anymore. Christian as trying to distract himself by answering emails on his blackberry rather than attempt conversation with the woman sitting to his left. And to her credit, she'd been silent since they'd entered the car. He'd expected her to probe him, to ask questions, to bother him. But she was sitting quietly, minding her own business. He took a moment to glance up at her, and had to do a double take once he registered what he'd seen. Something was off. She was grasping to the car door handle tightly, her face noticeable more pale, her eyes closed as her jaw clenched tightly. He'd raised an eyebrow at her, but chose to ignore it and instead returned his attention to his blackberry.

Minutes later, he heard her attempt to conceal a groan, but poorly, as he had heard it. He looked back up, and he could see a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"Are you okay?" he questioned, eyeing her curiously. The response he got was an incoherent mumble as she rubbed her hands over the thighs of her jeans, then rested her face down in her hands. She'd been fully up and feisty just twenty minutes ago. Something wasn't right.

"Anastasia?" he pressed, shoving his blackberry back in his pocket to give her his full attention.

"Yeah, I just need to get home and lie down I think. It's been a long day," she said, her voice sounding increasingly weaker, and all signs of her more spirited self were gone. But that sounded reasonable. She _had_ been through a lot today. So he decided to take her word for it.

It was less than a minute later when he glanced at her again. Okay, now she looked _really_ pale. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted. And she wasn't moving.

"Anastasia?" he asked, but she didn't answer. "Ana?" he questioned slightly more panicked. Nothing. "Taylor! I think something is wrong."

Taylor's eyes met his in the rear view mirror, and moments later they were pulling off to the side of the road. He was opening Anastasia's door in seconds, leaning over her, his fingers pressing on her neck, then his ear pressing to her chest. "She's breathing, but it's weak," he mumbled. "She's cold and clammy."

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. You said she had a reaction to medication they gave her earlier. Maybe it's part of that. I don't know, Sir."

In seconds Christian was whipping out his phone and calling number he'd called earlier to get Anastasia's nurse on the line.

"This is Bethany," a voice answered.

"This is Christian Grey. You were the nurse for Anastasia Steele correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey."

"Well then maybe you can tell me why she just fucking passed out in my car on the way to her apartment! What kind of incompetent nurse let's her patient leave the hospital when she is clearly not well? First I have to set your woman from financial straight and now I find out the medical care is just as bad. What kind of fucking hospital is this?" he ranted.

"Mr. Grey," she spat with venom, nearly as much as he'd used himself. "If you'll recall, I tried to urge Miss Steele to stay. I had taken her heart rate and blood pressure prior to her leaving and it was obvious that both were low. I told her I needed her to stay. And I begged her to eat something to help build up her strength. She refused to do both. And you stood there and backed her up. I tried to do my job, but I cannot force anyone to stay who is adamant on leaving. So, Mr. Grey, please refrain from questioning my professional skills when it was not my fault."

Of all the things she'd said, there was only one thing he could focus on. "When did she last eat?" He was yanking his hands through his hair roughly, the edge in his voice razor sharp.

"I don't know Mr. Grey. She refused to eat here. She said she didn't eat this morning. So I'd assume some time yesterday. She'd not dehydrated, because we had her on an IV when she came in. She needs food and rest, Mr. Grey. If you get her both, she should be fine. This is the risk one takes when they leave the hospital against medical advice. I tried to warn her."

"Mr. Grey, she's coming around," Taylor said, causing Christian to divert his attention from the phone, disconnecting the call without another word to the nurse. "Miss Steele?" Taylor urged softly, trying to bring her back to consciousness. "Miss Steele?" Christian's jaw clenched as he waited with baited breath for her to answer.

"Mmm," she mumbled, her hands coming up to tug her hair off of her neck. Her eyes fluttered open, first landing on Taylor, then on Christian. They closed, before shooting open again almost immediately. "Oh my God, what happened?" she asked, trying to sit up, blinking rapidly as she looked between the two men.

"You passed out," Taylor said softly. "Here, drink some water."

"Ugh," she groaned, rubbing her hand over her face before taking the bottle from Taylor's hand. "How embarrassing. Thank you."

"Just glad you're okay, ma'am," Taylor said with a gentle smile, which she returned.

"No mouth to mouth, right?" she asked after taking a small sip of the water.

"No, ma'am," Taylor said with a shake of his head at her playful nature, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

Anastasia's eyes left his and landed on Christian, and the smile immediately wiped off of her face.

"When did you eat last?" Christian spat, the atmosphere in the car shifting to ice cold in a second.

"I, uh… dinner, last night," she said.

His jaw clenched and unclenched no less than three time before he spoke through gritted teeth. "Last night. Do you have any idea how stupid it is to go so long without food? Especially after what you've been through today?"

He watched her look to Taylor for help, but Taylor was already out the door and back in the front seat. So she turned back to Christian, sitting up a little straighter. "I didn't really have time. Between rushing out the door this morning and getting hit by a cyclist, then spending half my day in the hospital."

"So you're going to sit there and tell me the hospital wouldn't provide you with food? That's funny, considering I just got off the phone with your nurse, who told me she'd attempted to persuade you to eat something because she knew you were weak, but you refused, and then insisted on leaving. Against her advice."

"I just wanted to get out of the hospital, okay? I planned on eating when I got home. I just wanted out of there. I don't see why I deserve a lecture over this," she mumbled the last part, not that it stopped him from hearing it.

"I have issues with food, Miss Steele. I find it abhorrent that you have so little care for yourself that you would risk passing out rather than eat just to save yourself an extra thirty minutes inside of a hospital. Have you no self-preservation at all?"

"Christian- Mr. Grey- with all due respect, I am a grown woman. I don't need you chastising me like a child."

"Then maybe you should stop acting like one," he growled.

"Taylor, can you please just take me home?"

"Yes, Miss Steele," Taylor responded, pulling out into traffic once again.

They sat in silence, the air thick with tension in the car. Anastasia was bouncing her foot up and down, her arms crossed over her chest, her face set in a scowl as she looked out her window.

"Taylor, pull over at this café so we can get something to eat before we take Miss Steele home," Christian said simply.

Anastasia's eyes shot over to him. "I want him to take me home. I want to go home."

"And I want you to eat," he said as Taylor pulled in the parking lot of the café.

"Well it's not your place to tell me when I have to eat."

"Maybe not," he said through clenched teeth. "But this is my car, and Taylor is my employee, so he will do what I say, and I want to go get something to eat," he said as he exited the car, watching Taylor open her door as she exited the car in a huff.

He walked ahead of her, securing them a table just as she was walking in the door behind him. She kept her mouth shut as the hostess led them to a table for two, Taylor staying near the front to gain a better vantage point over the whole place.

"You're unbelievable, do you know that?" she hissed from just over the top of her menu as soon as the hostess had walked away.

"And why is that, Miss Steele? Because I'm trying to make sure you're taken care of? Because I don't want to look over and find you passed out in my car again? Forgive me for being such a _monster_," he said as he perused the menu.

He watched over the top of his menu as her face fell from rage to a small frown. She was silent for a few moments before she let out a small sigh, setting her menu down and folding her hands on top of it. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke. "I appreciate you trying to make sure I'm okay. There was just a nicer way to do it, I think. I didn't say you were a monster."

"Well I don't play the part of 'good-guy' Anastasia. It's not a role with which I am familiar."

Her frown deepened. "You filled the role quite capably today. So I don't know why you say things like that."

"Because they're true. I had little choice in the matter today. I couldn't very well leave you stranded at the hospital, could I?"

"I could have called a cab. You didn't _have_ to—," she started to argue, but was cut off as the waitress came back to take their orders. Anastasia ordered a club sandwich, while he ordered a cob salad. He'd had lunch and wasn't that hungry. He wished she'd eat something a little heartier, but he was just glad she was eating anything at this point.

They sat in silence for a moment after she left, Anastasia swirling her straw in her glass of water mindlessly, a small 'V' settled between her eyebrows. The food came out quickly since it had to be assembled more than cooked. It was started to irk him that she seemed so lost in her thoughts, because he had no idea what the hell she was thinking about.

"Why do you care about whether I think I'm a good person or bad? What does it matter to you? I don't understand your interest in pushing the topic with me. Especially after how I treated you at Elliot's. That should have been proof enough. So why do you insist on keeping on fighting it?"

She stared at him for a moment, setting her sandwich down and wiping her hands on her napkin before giving him her full attention. "If I thought for a second that who you were at Elliot's was the real you, I wouldn't. But I don't. The guy at the coffeehouse, the guy from _that_ night who covered me up and told me I needed to do better for myself than what Elena offered- I believe you are **that** guy. The question is, why are you so desperate to prove to me that you're a bad guy?"

"Because I am. You should stay away from me. Not everyone can be a fucking saint like you."

She laughed, but with a sarcastic undertone. "A saint? Hardly. I make mistakes, just like everyone else. But I do try to be a decent person. You don't have to qualify for sainthood to be a respectable human being. Not all nice people are good and not all good people are nice. Like you, you may not be a particularly _nice_ person, but I believe you are a_ good_ person."

"You don't even know the first thing about me. I have demons you can't even imagine." She was just a nice, easy going girl. She had no idea what it was like to be affected every minute of your life by the demons you carried with you. He was all the pieces of his horrible past personified. Someone like her could never understand that.

"Everyone had a little gray area in their lives that makes them question who they are. It doesn't make you bad."

"People are good or bad. There is no gray area," he said with finality. He'd wanted to be good when he was little. He'd wanted to be good so his birth mother would love him. He'd wanted to be good so the pimp wouldn't beat him. Then, more than anything, he'd wanted to be good for his new family. He wanted to deserve them. But he wasn't and he didn't. He made Grace sad all the time when he was little. He disappointed his new parents by not speaking, by not letting them touch him, by hitting Elliot, then later on by getting kicked out of schools, drinking and fighting. He was certainly a depraved person for what he did to Anastasia. He did nothing but disappoint and hurt people his whole life. Every step of the way in his life he proved what kind of person he was, and it was not _good_.

Anastasia looked at him like he was crazy. "Of course there is a gray area. Everything has a gray area. _Life_ is one big gray area."

"I don't believe that." And he didn't. Everything in his world was very cut and dry. The whole business world was black and white. He got out what he put in. If he looked at the numbers, he could know the outcomes. It was all logic, all predicable. His personal life was the same. If a sub did what he said, she was rewarded. If he didn't, she was punished. They both knew the rules. His whole world operated on the idea of calculated order. Every action had a direct consequence, and he and everyone else around him knew was those were. There was no room for argument, no room for error. His life was a science. It would be a disaster if he allowed it to run based off the idea that there were gray areas.

"How? Look at your own life in the context of good verses bad. There is so much gray." His jaw tensed, his eyes burned into her. But he didn't respond, so she elaborated. "Okay, just one example, your speech at graduation. You told us about your charitable contributions providing food to those in need. If everything is black and white, explain to me how a 'bad' man can be responsible for such a purely good thing? It doesn't benefit you in tangible way. It is done selflessly. It is a good thing."

"It is just done out of necessity, Anastasia. Food is a necessity."

"But providing food for other people isn't a necessity for **you**. Yet, you consistently do it in enormous quantities. At a personal expense to you, no less."

"It's a tax write off," he dismissed, averting his gaze.

"This is much more personal to you than a tax write off. You know it and I know it, so don't bullshit me. I heard your speech at graduation. You gave me a glimpse into what drives you to help others, and it certainly isn't a tax write off. Don't diminish the good in yourself. I've never met someone who was ashamed of doing good things."

How had his day ended up here, having this intensely personal discussion with a woman he wanted nothing to do with? He wasn't ashamed of the work he did providing the hungry with food. He was ashamed of his own past, of his own hunger. He was ashamed of his own life. He was ashamed of having people think he was a good man based off of something he did without thinking. They didn't know his story. They didn't know how deep the corruption went in him. He didn't give food to those in need because he was good. He just gave it without thinking, because he felt like he had to; because everyone should be provided with life's basic needs. Food was a right, not be a privilege. Especially since, the more people who focused on it, the easier it would be to provide worldwide. It was just common sense to do what he could to provide nourishment to those in need. It didn't change who he was deep inside, certainly didn't flip the switch inside of him from 'bad' to 'good'.

"If you're done, I will take you home now," he said, effectively ending their conversation.

* * *

The ride back was filled with silence. It wasn't quite uncomfortable. He'd stolen a glance at Anastasia, and she hadn't seemed upset in any way. She just sat quietly looking out the car window as they drove. He didn't know what to make of her. She confused him in a way no one ever had before. She had no problem sharing her opinions and speaking her peace on anything. She was so blunt, but in such an unassuming way. But at the same time, she had such a way of making him feel like she could see right through him. Like every observation she made cut him straight to the bone. It was unnerving. He'd cultivated such an impenetrable exterior so no one would ever know what he was thinking, yet she seemed to be able to slice right through it. Another reason he wanted her out of his life. It made him uneasy, the idea that someone could see through him like that.

When the car pulled up in front of her building, he finally broke the silence. "Taylor will walk to you to your door," he said, nodding his head in Taylor's direction so he knew to get out of the car and help Anastasia upstairs. He didn't want to deal with any awkward moments as they parted at her door. He also didn't want to see her personal space. He didn't want to know the little bit and pieces that made up her world. He didn't want to further humanize her by knowing more details of her life. He already knew much more than he ever cared to. Knowing more about her made it harder to put her way on that shelf in his mind as just a distant memory. He'd already made too many new memories of her, _with_ her.

He was truly happy that she was nothing like the woman he'd pictured her to be after what he'd put her through. The way she approached life was something he couldn't understand. She was so calm and collected, so poised and self-assured. She was unpretentious, sweet and everything that he wasn't and had never been. And the fact that she was all these things after what he'd put her through baffled him.

"Thanks again for getting me from the hospital. It was very nice of you," she said as she exited the car door which Taylor had opened for her.

"It wasn't _nice_. I didn't have a choice," he called back. Why couldn't she get that?

Her head popped back in the door. "You always have a choice, Mr. Grey. You chose _good_ today." And then she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Nice trying having Taylor discretely leave this in my apartment.**

**Too bad it didn't work.**

**Tags are still on as promised.**

**Ana**

* * *

Christian set the card down and looked in the box, seeing the shirt and jeans he'd bought for her. He couldn't help the smirk that graced the very edges of his lips. She was tenacious, that was for sure. It most definitely annoyed him that she didn't just accept the clothes. Because he would not be returning them. So what the hell was _he_ to do with them? At least if she'd kept them, they'd be used. He could care less about the money he'd wasted on them. She could have just graciously accepted them, thanked him, and moved on. Like every other woman for who'd he'd bought clothes. His subs, his mother, his sister. No one had ever turned down something he'd gifted them. Except Anastasia. Infuriating, frustrating Anastasia. He was learning it could never be that simple when it came to her.

* * *

Christian was intensely focused on the paperwork he'd had drawn up for an acquisition he was attempting to make on a company in Japan. His tie was loosened and his fingers were pulling through his hair. He wanted this company badly. It would accelerate another of his company's research into ecofriendly technologies by months, maybe even years. He had to make sure the presentation was flawless.

So when his office door was flung open, and he was ripped from his thoughts, he was ready to go absolutely berserk on whoever dared interrupt him. But he paused when he looked up and locked eyes on the tiny, fuming brunette in the doorway.

"You and I need to talk," she spat as she stepped further into his office, a woman on a mission.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Andrea rushed in behind her. "I tried to stop her." He just nodded as Andrea, effectively dismissing her. She turned on her heel and scurried out, closing the door behind her.

"Miss Steele, I'm very busy at the moment. I'm sure you can appreciate that—"

"No. Nope. Sorry. I'm not letting you kick me out. I can't believe you. I seriously—I've never met anyone like you before. I don't know what to make of you. You confound me at every turn. Just when I think I might kind of understand where you're coming from, you completely throw me for a loop."

"You're rambling. What is this about, Anastasia?"

"ANA! It's _Ana_. And this is about the hospital bill."

"The hospital bill," he repeated back. He thought he'd taken care of that. "What's wrong with it? Did they charge you for something?"

Her eyes went wide, her hands pressing to her chest in a gesture that confused him. "**No!**_That's_ the problem, Christian! I called because I hadn't heard anything from them about what I was sure was to be a monstrous bill since I have no insurance. And they inform me that it has been taken care of. By _you_!"

"Yes," he nodded in agreement with her statement. "They were about to hound you with the specifics of taking care of the bill when I arrived to take you home. I took care of it in order to reduce the stress put on you at the time. I would have thought such action would warrant a 'thank you', not this display with which you've currently come to my office."

She let out a high pitch sound from the back of her throat that made him wince. She was upset. More than upset, she was furious. Why, he wasn't quite sure, but it was obvious. Her fingers laced in her hair, then dropped back out. She tilted her face up toward the ceiling and appeared to be counting backwards from ten. When she finally looked at him, she spoke through gritted teeth. "I refused a few hundred dollars' worth of clothes purchased by you! What made you think I'd be willing to let you foot the bill for my entire hospital visit?"

"You let me give you the money you used for college. I fail to see the difference between this and that."

Her mouth dropped open, and she just stared at him in utter shock for a long moment. "There's a huge difference!" she finally shrieked, her eyes wide, her arms flailing in the air. "That was money I desperately needed to get out of my mom's house. And it came at a price, mind you. One I willingly paid, but a price none the less."

His jaw clenched as he decided to gloss over to what she was referring as her price for that money. He fucking hated thinking about it. "And with what money would you pay them back, Anastasia? We both know you don't have anywhere near the amount of money they were going to charge for an uninsured hospital visit. Truthfully, they could have charged you one-hundred dollars and you would have been pulling pennies out of your couch cushions trying to pay them off."

Her jaw tightened again, her eyes narrowing in a glare as she struggled to maintain control over her composure. "Yes, it's true, I can't afford these bills. But I would have found a way- payments, something. I would have done something to figure it out. The last thing I want is a handout from you, especially after the way you eviscerated me at Elliot's house, suggesting monetary benefits for my friendship with Kate."

"Well now you don't need to figure it out. It's done. I certainly won't miss the money, so no harm, no foul. Now if you'd please," he said gesturing toward the door before averting his attention back to the papers in front of him.

"Yes harm, yes foul!" she insisted, approaching his desk rather than leaving without further incident like he'd hoped. "Christian, you made me feel like a money grubbing, social climbing piece of trash for living with my best friend and borrowing her clothes! You hatefully accused me of things I would never do. If I just sat back and let you do this, it would just perpetuate that idea that I was looking for a handout. And I'm not. I've never in my life sought out someone for free financial gain. I will not start now, with you of all people- the most judgmental person I think I've ever met. So tell me what I owe you. I am going to pay you back every penny."

"Anastasia," he sighed, rubbing his fingers over his temple. "Please just drop this."

"No! Why does everything always have to according to your terms? Like you're some omnipotent being and I'm just this lowly little peon for you to step on?"

"Anastasia…" he warned again.

"For the millionth time, it's _Ana_. And why do you dislike me so much? If anything, shouldn't it be the other way around? Wasn't I the one wronged during our prior encounters?" she asked.

"I don't _dislike_ you."

"Could have fooled me," she muttered.

"Look, Anastasia. Ana-," he corrected when she shot him an irritated glare. "I know I was harsh that night at Elliot's. I wanted to avoid all of this. I want to avoid us interacting. It makes me relive the guilt of what I did to you. I don't want to be the cause of any pain in your life. You have to understand, I spent years thinking I'd ruined you. But I didn't. You're an amazing girl and I don't want to have escaped hurting you back then only to end up doing it now. And I will. You have to know, I can only inevitably do harm to your life."

"Regardless of whether or not I agree with all that crap you just said, you make it seem like I sought you out that night at Elliot's. I was there for Kate. She was meeting your entire family, who are quite intimidating, at least on paper. And she needed some emotional support. She needed some people in her corner. Someone more than just Ethan. So I came because she asked me too. I didn't go there for you. I went there for her. And I don't think I did or said anything to deserve the way you treated me that night."

"No. You didn't directly. It was more like a preemptive strike. Scare you away before you even got a chance to try."

"To try what, Christian? To talk to you? To have a casual conversation? Because that was the extent of what I would have done that night, had you given me a chance."

He ran his hand through his hair in aggravation. He didn't like his motives being questioned. He didn't like her standing here in front of him throwing all these things at him. He felt an overwhelming urge to call Taylor and have her tossed out just to ensure she couldn't fire off one more question that he didn't want to answer. This is not how he normally operated. "I'm not good at navigating these sorts of situations. I don't do this stuff. I don't have to answer to anyone about anything."

"Well, on this, you have to answer to me because this is my life you're meddling in. Why did you do it? Why did you pay my hospital bill?" she asked, her voice closer, softer.

He looked up to find her standing directly in front of his desk now. Her eyes were looking intently into his, the malice replaced with tense confusion as they searched his face. And once his eyes locked on hers, he couldn't find it in himself to look away. And for some reason, instead of dismissing her unwelcome question, he chose to answer it. He wasn't a lying man. He may often avoid questions all together, but he very infrequently lied. So when he answered her, it was with blunt honesty. "Because I wanted to help you. I didn't want you to struggle over something as stupid as a hospital bill. Because you'd already had a horrible day, and they were about to go into your room and lay thousands of dollars' worth of stress at your feet. I didn't want to see that happen when it was so easy for me to fix the problem. That kind of money is nothing to me. So I just did it. It truly didn't even cause me to bat an eyelash to hand over my AMEX and take care of it."

She took in a deep breath, her whole body relaxing as she let the breath out. Slowly she descended into the chair directly behind her. "Oh Christian," she sighed with a shake of her head. "I really don't know what to make of you."

And they sat there, staring at each other in silence. She was brazenly searching his eyes, penetrating him in a way he'd never felt before. What was it about her that made him feel so crazed? No one had ever riled him to the extent that she could. His approach, his attitude, they were tools he wielded in order to intimidate and gain control. They came from a place of confidence, always leaving him with the upper hand for the duration of his interactions with others. His extreme and unwavering aggressive assertiveness equaled results in his life. It deterred people from trying to get close to him and manipulated them into bending to his will. His temperament was a barrier keeping the rest of the world at an arm's length.

But his aggressiveness for her came from somewhere else entirely. It came from a feeling of lack of control over the situation. She antagonized him on an unfathomable level. Nothing he could do or say seemed to deter her in the slightest. Every mechanism he knew to keep people at bay seemed to fail completely when he attempted to use it against her. He would say it was like she was a glutton for his verbally and emotionally abusive behavior, except most of the time she seemed completely unaffected by it altogether. She just cut through his defenses, and it made him very uneasy.

"_Mr. Grey?"_ The disembodied voice came over the speaker sitting on his desk.

"What?" He barked back, causing Anastasia to raise an eyebrow at him.

"_Mrs. Elena Lincoln is on the line. She says she needs to speak with you urgently." _Fuck. Could the timing of this literally be _any_ worse? Elena hadn't tried to contact him personally in nearly a year.

Anastasia's mouth popped open as Christian's eyes landed unwaveringly on hers while he responded to Andrea. "Tell her I am busy and to take any issue she had up with Mrs. Hipp as she had been instructed to do countless times in the past."

"_Yes, sir." _Andrea replied before Christian disconnected her.

Now they were in a standoff, both staring at one another, waiting for the other to speak first. He could tell from the look in her eyes that her mind was reeling. Finally he chose to speak first, only to be cut off immediately. "Anastasia—."

"I thought you said you'd escaped her! You lied to me?"

He would give anything to talk about the hospital bill now. This was the last fucking conversation he wanted to have with her. "Well, actually, you assumed that information. I never actually said it. You did, and I just didn't correct you."

"Christian! A lie by omission is still a lie!"

"We barely know each other, Anastasia. I hardly owe it to you to be an open fucking book," he spat harshly. She pulled back from him the desk as if he'd slapped her. The look on her face sent a fleeting trill through his chest. "Look," he quickly spoke, trying to diffuse the situation before it got any more out of hand. "I already told you, I'm not used to answering to anyone about my life. I make it a habit to do just the opposite, in fact. Truthfully, I've been more patient with you than anyone else in my life, as hard as that may be to believe. While I feel I do not owe you an explanation, I can assure you that I have valid reasons for maintaining a business relationship with her," he said.

"What are they? These 'valid reasons', what are they?"

Christian immediately felt his frustration hit the roof. "I just told you that—"

"Don't you understand what she is?" Anastasia asked, her voice a combination between panic and pleading. "Don't you get what she did? To you? To me? And you still involve yourself with her? I thought you hated her? I thought… But you've _helped_ her? You've **helped** her," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"My interactions with Elena weren't limited to one night, Anastasia. There is much, much more to her and my story than there is to yours. You couldn't understand. Notwithstanding, I thought you were okay with your decisions regarding that night. You've insisted to me that it was done in your best interests."

"What happened between _you and I_ is what I can reconcile, Christian. As an adult, I can reconcile what I gave up was for the greater benefit of myself and my life. As an adult, I can reconcile that I don't fault you for it because I know you regret it and I know you had no idea about my age or sexual status. So, yes, what _we_ did, in my mind, is something I can look back on without feeling riddled with shame and disgust. But my time with _her_? I may not have had six years with her, but our time was not limited to just that night either. I spent three months being whipped and caned by her. Being _penetrated_ by her. Being debased and humiliated by her in the name of training. She knew exactly how old I was, knew exactly what my home life was like, and she used it to manipulate me into a situation I had no business being a part of. She is a horrible, disgusting excuse for a human being. She is a fucking pedophile and I have spent countless sleepless nights hoping she would one day find herself rotting in a gutter or dead. But instead, I find out you've been taking care of her."

"It's not as simple as that," he said, but it was like she didn't hear him. Like she was lost in her own thoughts, up and pacing in front of his desk now. She was talking a mile an second, her words escaping like verbal diarrhea. Like she was panicking. Her eyes were fixated down on the floor as she moved her hands constantly for the duration of her speech.

"I actually tried to tell my mom about it. Not all the details. At first I just tried to feel out the situation to see what she would say. I told her that someone we know, who she casually socialized with, had approached me about something regarding a sexual nature. But she immediately blew me off, telling me that I was sixteen and if I wasn't already dealing with sexual situations, then something was wrong with me. _With me._ I told her this person was much older, and she said, and I quote "Good. Find someone rich who can take care of us when Steve's money runs out." I never brought it up to her again. I figured there was no point. But it still never sat right with me. I kept thinking- what if she is doing this to other people? The guilt of not coming forward and being responsible for another kid being involved in that was eating me alive, so I went downtown and had an informal sit down a police officer. I kept it kind of vague, just giving her name and saying I'd heard rumors that she was involving minors in sexually explicit activities. I figured I could give them more personal details later, but I was kind of hoping once they started looking into her they would find enough other stuff on her where I would maybe not need to give them all the details about _us_.

"The officer seemed really concerned at first, taking notes, saying he would follow up on it as much as he could being that I wasn't providing any concrete details. He just truly seemed like he wanted to help. Days later he told me he'd approached Mrs. Lincoln about it and she balked, so he wanted to open a formal investigation into it. He wanted me to get a lawyer. I thought it was a good idea, because I was sure that eventually they would question if I was involved with her or… I don't know. I just wanted someone I could consult. I was trying to find a lawyer I could trust and afford without spending too much of my college money, but before I could find one, things changed. The officer called me down to the station to talk. I thought he had some more information or something. He had me wait in a room for nearly two hours, and when he came in, he was like a different person. Suddenly he was looking at me like I did something wrong. He started asking me why I got involved with her in the first place, what I stood to gain. He insinuated I was trying to blackmail her and that there could be consequences for me wasting their time with false allegations. He was talking about her as if _she_ was the victim. I got scared. I was so freaked out that I just told them to drop it. They did without question. Like that was his goal all along: to scare me enough to make it go away."

She shrunk slowly back into the chair in front of his desk, her elbows resting on her knees, her head in her hands, her voice soft and muffled. "I felt so helpless. It was so hard knowing she was maybe hurting other kids. But I truly did try. I just..." she trailed off, looking up and out the window behind him, her gaze going out of focus as if she was deep in thought. Her speech went from frantic to almost monotonous by the time she reached the end of her rant. It was like she had completely propelled herself back and got lost in the deep and haunting memories.

The room was silent and Christian let the whole story sink in. A feeling of unease slowly eking into the back of his mind. "When was this?" he asked.

She thought for a moment. "I was eighteen, almost nineteen."

Christian did the quick math in his head, then felt the sick feeling spreading in his gut. He leaned over her desk, his head in his hands as his mind reeled.

When he was about twenty-five, after a barrage of calls from Elena saying she needed to speak with him in person, he had agreed to see her only after she promised that it was business related. When they met at GEH, she told him that there was an incident at the salon and one of per patrons was making a fuss about something. He couldn't even remember what she had said the issue was anymore. He just remembered her explaining it plausibly as a misunderstanding. It had seemed reasonable to him, whatever it was. But the person, as sometimes people are, was tenacious and not giving up the fight, and was contacting the police with intention to press changes and try to sue the salon. She, and therefore he, was worried that if word got out, the bad press would hurt the business. So in order to make it, and Elena, go away, Christian had quickly agreed to call in a couple favors and grease a few palms to make the problem nonexistent. He'd contacted the Seattle PD, made a couple of generous donations while vaguely mentioning his business relationship with 'Elena Lincoln' during the 'small talk', and that was that. It had literally taken minutes of his time and he'd never heard about the issue again.

But now, now he was thinking he'd been played once again. He's never discussed the nature of what was happening with the police. He'd just thrown money at it with the understanding that 'the Elena Lincoln issue' was to disappear. It could very reasonably have been that the real issue was not Esclava related, but Anastasia related. In his quick effort to get Elena away from him and keep his business name pristine, he'd literally paid off law enforcement to slip Elena through the cracks for what she'd done. And in the process, he'd denied Anastasia her right to peace of mind.

The cold hard truth made him furious. He'd been manipulated by Elena fucking Lincoln, _again_.

Even worse,he'd hurt_ Anastasia _again. The exact thing he'd wanted to avoid doing. He felt the sick slither of self-loathing coursing through his veins. He didn't know exactly what her whole story was, but he was able to glean the obvious information that her mother was an unfit parent. Anastasia had fought an uphill battle for years, finally pulling together enough strength to stand up for herself and try to claim justice, and he'd unknowingly ripped it away.

Rubbing his temples, he looked up only to find his office empty. He was up and to his office door immediately, ripping it open and finding no sign of her outside.

"Andrea! Where is Miss Steele?" he hissed, his eyes darting around the lobby as if she might suddenly materialize in front of him.

Andrea cocked a questioning eyebrow before cautiously pointing at the elevator. "She left. Just a few minutes ago, Sir."

Christian took a few lunging steps to his private elevator, the decent to the main lobby seemingly lasting forever. When the doors finally opened, he stepped out, his eyes scouring the area around him, trying to find her.

But she was gone.

* * *

From Anastasia Steele (8:57PM):

**Was it really hush money the whole time? The 50G back then. And then I pop back up so you cover the hospital bill now. Was it all insurance to keep me quiet? Did you two plan this together?**

Fuck! _Fuck!_

He was sitting at his desk in his study, looking over detailed charts regarding the financials for an acquisition when he'd heard his phone alert him of the incoming text. He's expected it to be Elliot. Maybe Ros. But not Anastasia. And not Anastasia asking him_ that_.

It had been days. Three days, to be exact, since she'd walked out on him in his office. He was fairly confident that she would be unwilling to pop up in his life again. She'd obviously been appalled, _offended_ that he'd maintained any sort of ongoing relationship with Elena Lincoln. That information, he was sure, was enough to keep her away for good. And good riddance, right? That was the plan all along: to keep her away.

His first thought was to text back that yes, it was hush money all along. Surely that would put the final nail in the coffin and keep her away from him for good. Her thinking he was in cahoots with Elena and had paid her off to keep her quiet would most definitely smash the fantastical ideas that she seemed to harbor of him being a decent person. She was sure to leave him alone then. And that was what he wanted, after all. His fingers hovered over the keyboard on his phone. Slowly he pressed the keys, the words showing up boldly on this display.

From: Christian Grey (9:01PM)

**Yes, it was. You could ruin me with what you know. I needed leverage to make sure you kept quiet then and now. **

Hovering over the 'send' key, his fingers seemed to freeze.

Why couldn't he do this? She was handing him an easy fix to his problems. He certainly didn't owe Anastasia any explanation about why he had maintained a business relationship with Elena. And he couldn't explain it to her, even if he wanted to, because it was complicated. He couldn't offer her a decent explanation without telling her his whole history with Elena. And no way in hell he was willing to do _that_. Who cared if she thought he and Elena had some kind of agreeable relationship? Who cared what Anastasia fucking Steele thought? Not him, not the ruthless, heartless Christian Grey.

…So why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he send this text and be rid of her once and for all? Removing his finger from the 'send' button, he tossed his phone back on his desk. He buried his head in his hands, letting out a frustrated sigh.

He hated to admit it, but the truth was that he hated that Anastasia knew about him helping Elena. He hadn't felt guilty when he'd shut her down at the café, telling her he didn't want to see her again. And it had rolled off his back when he'd spewed insults at her at Elliot's. He could live with her avoiding him because she simply thought he was an asshole. But the idea of her avoiding him because she was upset, hurt, _disgusted_ that he was helping someone who had hurt her, hurt _them_\- it didn't sit well with him. It was making his stomach constantly churn.

Because she didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand. She didn't even know a fraction of the story that existed between him and Elena. She didn't know about the money Elena had given him. She didn't know about Linc and the beating. She didn't know that he went through great lengths to avoid Elena at all costs the last six years. It wasn't a story he ever in his life wanted to tell. Flynn was the only one who knew it, and it had taken years of poking and prodding from him to eventually pull all of the details out. Yet, he was feeling a compulsion to make sure that Anastasia at least knew that he hated Elena too, that he hasn't helped her because they had maintained a positive relationship. He'd helped her because… God, why had he helped that bitch?

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Christian Grey now, in all his brutal, merciless glory, would never have thrown that lying, manipulative bitch a bone. But young, still somewhat naïve Christian had, and it had been a big one. He often found himself wanting to take it back, pull the rug out from underneath her. Just because he could. But he never did. There was just something about Elena Lincoln that had him glossing over the details, choosing to ignore it all rather than face it head on. It was easier to just keep the ball rolling than stop it and face the consequences of his earlier life mistakes. And for the most part, she'd held up to her end of the deal. She hadn't attempted to contact him much over the years. And her salons _were_ profitable. So he found it easier to convince himself it was no big deal, to just not rock the boat and keep the status quo.

He knew why he'd helped her at the time. Everything had happened so fast. His life was falling apart around him- his trust in Elena had been destroyed and he'd wanted to strangle her, he was so angry with her. Everything he knew was crashing down, and before he could start to sort through it all in his mind, the beating courtesy of Linc had happened, and he'd just acted. He'd reverted back to the trust and appreciation he'd held all those years for Elena, still believing at the time that she'd helped him along the way. He was thankful for the help, but had no desire to continue a personal relationship with her because she'd broken his trust. So he'd offered her help in the only capacity in which he was comfortable—business- without a second thought. Despite everything, at the time, he'd still felt indebted to her in many ways. And if throwing money at the whole thing would make it go away, he'd had the means to do just that. It was faster and easier than dealing with it all any other way. If all he had to do was deal with her in a distant business relationship, then it would be fine. And he thought it had been. He thought they had some kind of simple, easy understanding. He even went too far as to think that she respected him now, knowing that he was in charge of the thin string holding their relationship together.

But now he'd learned that she was still controlling and manipulating what little relationship they had. She had lied to him, using him to make the threat of Anastasia's accusations go away. He'd thought he was in charge, between the two of them. But now he'd learned, once again, that she'd been pulling the strings. If she'd manipulated him then, to such an extent that she'd used him to interfere with an actual police investigation, it made him wonder what else she was capable of. What else had she actually been controlling that he didn't know about?

He'd had his head in the sand too long when it came to her. If he just let Anastasia believe that he was happily working with Elena, he felt like that would be just perpetuating the grip Elena had on his life. He was sick of unknowingly being Elena's puppet. Finding out she'd been manipulating him even after all these years was like a punch in the gut. But there was a difference now. Now he was the master of his universe. He was no longer going to turn a blind eye to that blood sucking bitch. He was going to take back absolute control.

He was going to need to straighten this all out in his head. A meeting with Flynn regarding this topic was long overdue. Years ago, when he was first given the rude awakening that Elena wasn't who he thought she was, he had opened up to Flynn about the things that had happened between the two. He'd told him everything, ranging from how their relationship started to how he grew dependent on it, to how betrayed he felt when she'd completely shattered his trust. But after some time, his willingness to discuss the bitch of a woman decreased more and more. He didn't want to analyze it anymore. He didn't want to waste one more second thinking about Elena Lincoln. He wanted her virtually erased from his mind. So he started dodging John's questions about her, until eventually he would outright refuse to answer them.

It became a dead topic during their sessions. John would try every once and a while to bring her back up, but that usually resulted in Christian standing up and walking out of the office. In the recesses of his mind, he knew it was because as he started to more fully understand the grip she had on his life and how she had pumped him full of false promises and lies. He became embarrassed. He was embarrassed that he'd been unknowingly manipulated to such lengths. Here he'd thought she was genuinely trying to help him, that she sincerely cared to help him gain the control he so desperately desired over his life. But when it all came crashing down, he was just left with the bitter taste of shame once again. So he'd relied to avoidance when it came to dealing with it. He just out and out refused to spend another moment of his life thinking about her and what she had really done to him.

It had worked for the last so many years. Until it didn't. Now he needed to face the music that she had never stopped manipulating him. He'd played right into her hands with the whole police/Anastasia situation. And it was shredding him apart inside knowing she'd most likely had the upper hand all these years, even when he thought he'd been the one in charge. His control was all perceived; she'd always been pulling the strings.

But now he was willing to see the truth. He had no idea what else she'd done to use him over the years, but he was going to be making a very active effort to make sure that she never,_ never_ did it again. No more turning a blind eye in order to avoid the situation.

But first he had to talk to Anastasia.


	7. Chapter 7

Text From: Christian Grey (9:34PM)

**I would like to speak with you if you are available to meet.**

Text From: Christian Grey (9:54PM)

**Anastasia, please respond to me**.

Text From: Christian Grey (10:07PM)

**This is important. I realize you are angry with me and most likely do not trust me at the moment, but there are things of which you need to be made aware. Please, I really would like to speak with you.**

Incoming Call: Christian Grey (10:22PM)

_Hi, you've reached Ana Steele. Please leave a name and number and I'll get back to you. Thanks!_

"**Anastasia, I was attempting to take the high road here, but you're forcing my hand. I will see you shortly."**

* * *

"Taylor just drop me off out front, please," Christian said as soon as they'd slowed in front of her apartment building. "I'm not sure how long this will take."

When attempting to get ahold of Anastasia the traditional way had failed, Christian reverted to using the tools at his disposal to get what he'd wanted. Once quick call to Welch and he had her location pinpointed to her apartment building, so he'd immediately set course there. He was going to talk to her whether she wanted to or not.

Taylor nodded, pulling over and letting Christian exit the car. Approaching the main entrance, Christian frowned when he saw the door propped open by a small rock, allowing anyone to enter without the need to be buzzed in. Whoever did this obvious didn't care for the safety of themselves or the other tenants in the building. He opened the door, picking up the rock and tossing it out into the grass. He wouldn't perpetuate the stupidity of that action.

He passed by the list of names on the door, not needing it since Welch had given him Anastasia and Katherine's apartment number already. The elevator had a clear 'Out of Order' sign haphazardly handing from the doors. He huffed. Shitty security, no elevator. What the fuck were these tenants paying for if the building owner took such horrible care of the building? He had half a mind to make a formal complaint himself. He headed for the stairs, ascending the four flights necessary to reach their floor.

As soon as he reached her door, he knocked loudly.

Once.

Twice.

The third time he was practically pounding on it before he heard a faint, "Just a second. Keep your hair on!"

He heard movement, then the doorknob turning before the door popped open to reveal Anastasia dressed in flannel pajama pants and a simple, fitted v-neck t-shit. Before he could utter a syllable, she loudly said, "Nope!" and began to shut the door on him. But he was quick to react, stopping the door with his hand. It took no strength at all to keep it open, even as she struggled against him to push it closed.

"Anastasia, please. I want to talk to you," he said as she stepped out of sight to push her full weight against the door.

"No thanks. Not interested. Please leave," she said, from behind the solid wood, still attempting, and failing, to even budge the door, let alone close it.

"The answer is no," he spat quickly, and firmly. "To all three questions. No, it was not hush money all along. No, it was not insurance to keep you quiet. And no, she and I did **not** plan this together." He felt the pressure she was putting on the door suddenly cease, and after a few seconds that felt like minutes, she stepped back into view, her face painted with an unconvinced frown.

He stood with baited breath, waiting for her to say something, but instead she just turned on her heel and disappeared into her apartment, leaving the door ajar and him standing in front of it.

Tentatively he pressed his palm into the wood, opening it a little more so he could lean in. He heard the clinking noises of someone in the kitchen, and decided to take his chances and enter without technically gaining permission to do so. Once inside, he closed and locked the door behind him, his mind flitting back to the safety conditions of the building before immediately shifting back to the current issue. He waited just inside the apartment, not sure if he was welcome to venture any further.

When she finally came back into the room, she was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. She didn't even look at him, instead she just walked over to the couch, took a seat, and filled both glasses up about half way. She took a sip. Then moments later, another. Finally she looked up at him, eyebrows quirked high. "You wanted to talk, so talk," she said, clearly not amused with the situation in the slightest.

He sighed, striding over to her and taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. He reached for the wine glass, taking a sip before grimacing. "This wine is awful," he said lowly.

She leaned forward immediately, grabbing the glass from his hand. "Don't have any then," she said, setting it down on the table in front of her.

Another minute of silence followed before she tipped back the rest of her wine in one shot before again being the one to speak. "Maybe you should just go," she said, clearly irritated, exchanging her empty wine glass for his barely touched one.

"Do you always drink like this?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

She set the glass back down, then took in a deep breath, letting it out on an unamused laugh before shaking her head and moving to stand.

"No, wait," he said quickly, reaching out and stopping her with a hand on her upper arm. "Please, don't. I want to talk. I do. There are things I need to say. Things I need you to know. But this is hard for me. I'm not used to doing this," he said quickly.

"Doing what exactly?" she asked, resting back against the armrest, her body turned halfway toward him, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Talking to people. About personal things. I don't share my personal life with anyone. I don't answer to anyone. The things you and I have in common, the things we need to discuss, they are things I've taken great lengths to make sure no one ever finds out. I have spent countless hours making sure these topics are something I never have to discuss with anyone. So forgive me if I have no idea how to do this," he said, running his fingers through his hair in obvious distress.

He saw her frown again, but this time with more of a hint of understanding rather than frustration. Her head cocked to the side as she stared at him intently, then after a beat, she waved a hand in front of her as if bidding him to continue.

"I don't know where to start, Ana," he said quietly, already deep in thought. "Elena and I—our history is complicated. He hesitated again, but she seemed to be waiting patiently now. He liked that she wasn't verbally pushing him to talk. When people pushed him, even gently, it made him immediately want to close off more. Flynn had perfected the silent waiting game, and it was one of the reasons Christian had stuck with him for all these years. "As you know, she and I started our… relationship when I was fifteen."

He glanced up at her, and she wasn't looking at him, instead staring down at her hands in her lap. But he saw her jaw tighten, so he knew she was listening. Again, the lack of eye contact, made it easier for him. He hated the inquisitive, probing look in people's eyes when he discussed anything personal- like they were trying to pull more out of him than he was willing to give.

"She introduced me to BDSM as a way to teach me control. I had a hard start in life, and it affected me through all of my adolescent years. By the time I was a teenager, I was out of control. Elena gave me a way to take that control back. I trusted her. I appreciated her. She was the only person in my life offering me something that made sense _for me_. And it worked. For six, almost seven years I was her submissive." Even though her face was turned down, he could see her eyebrows quirk up high on her forehead. He pushed forward. "As such, she taught me control. It was the one thing I needed to put my life on track, and she afforded me the opportunity to acquire it. It made me everything I am today. All that I have accomplished has been because of the control she taught me. But when I was 21, I knew I was ready for more. I wanted complete control. I wanted to be a Dominant. She subbed for me, to start. But she wasn't what I wanted. I had always had a very specific taste in woman. I was drawn to a very certain type. Elena did not match that. And if I was going to be a Dom, I wanted to do it with the type of sub** I** wanted, of course. She promised to find me someone who fit my specific criteria. I was so new to the Dom thing, I appreciated her help." He paused again, his voice dropping a little lower when he continued. "It was my twenty-second birthday present from her— my first real sub, one who wasn't _her_. A sub who fit my physical preference."

He waited quietly, watching her think, then saw her face wash with realization. "Me," she stated softly.

"You," he confirmed. "A petite, long haired brunette with pale skin. You fit my fantasy to a T."

She was chewing on her bottom lip in thought. Finally she looked up, meeting his eyes briefly, before looking back down again, giving nothing away. So he continued.

"I was elated, to be honest. I hadn't expected you. She'd taken me out to dinner, then back to her home. I never for a second entertained the idea that she had a sub waiting for me in her dungeon. So when I walked in, and there you were, on your knees in your panties looking every inch the fantasy I'd held in my head since the moment I hit puberty, I lost any sense other than to conquer you. I was new to the Dom scene. And I have since learned that Elena didn't really follow traditional protocol with her submissives. She played fast and loose with the rules. So, what I understood to be the way of things, was not entirely accurate. As a result, you were treated in a way I have never since treated one of my submissives. I ignored your body's clues that what I was doing was too much. I didn't do anything to earn your trust. I used you as a vessel for my selfish desires without truly considering you. I hadn't known I was supposed to, truthfully. I trusted Elena blindly. I wouldn't have believed for a second that she would knowingly pair be with a sixteen year old virgin. Your blindfold and ball gag kept me from truly studying your face, which in turn kept be from realizing your age. I jumped the gun and went straight for the kill. You deserved better than every single moment I gave you that night."

She nodded, realizing that this moment wasn't about the guilt he felt for her that night. They'd discussed his regret already. This wasn't about them. This was about him and Elena, so he pressed on.

"That night, she completely shattered my trust in her. Prior to that night, I had trusted her implicitly. I would have taken her advice, her opinion, over anyone else in my life. I truly believed that she was the only person in the world who understood me. She was the only person in the world who knew the real me. But after that night, things changed. When I left that night, I told her I never wanted to see her again. I was ready to write her off completely after that stunt she pulled."

"But you didn't, obviously," she spat bitterly, grabbing for the wine glass once again and taking a generous sip.

"No," he said curtly, opting not to grab the glass from her despite his intense desire to do so. "Our relationship was always complicated. We could not risk anyone finding out about us. It would have ruined us both. She was seventeen years my senior, and a very close friend of my mother's. I had my business reputation to protect and she was married. With the help of my therapist, following that night, I was just starting to have an inkling of the eventual full-blown realization that the last seven years of my life were manipulated by the only person in the world I thought I could trust. But before I could even start sorting through the mess which was suddenly my reality, I got a phone call. Elena was in the hospital. She had been beaten quite brutally. To everyone else, she claimed she'd been mugged, but when we were alone, she told me that it was actually a beating at the hands of her husband. He'd found out about us. He filed for divorce and left her nothing. I felt compelled at the time to help her, because it was equally my fault that her marriage had ended, and she'd agreed to a divorce where she received nothing in order to protect me. She had agreed to walk away with nothing as long as he didn't spread the word about us. She saved my name and therefore my business. So in return, I funded her salon venture so she could have income to care for herself. I don't have contact with her. My subordinates handle all issues with her company. I am simply the financial backing. I am not on speaking terms with her. We do not have any contact other than a distant financial one."

When he was done talking, he waited. He assumed she would be relieved to learn that he hadn't stayed on good terms with her after that night. There was still so much more he needed to broach with her, especially regarding the whole police business from years ago, but first he needed to know that she believed that he wasn't even talking to, let alone in some sort of alliance with, Elena Lincoln.

She sat silent for a minute, taking two more slow sips of wine, then finally she set her glass down and cleared her throat. "And you believed her?"

"What?" he asked, confused.

Her eyes met his. "You believed her? That her husband was so angry about her affair that he badly beat her, then divorced her leaving her nothing, but agreed not to expose it? You believe that after you shunned her, that she walked away from her husband willingly for nothing just to protect your name?"

"Yes," he said with much less conviction than he'd intended. He'd never considered the fact that Elena's story wasn't true. _Like he never considered she'd have set him up with a sixteen year old virgin sub, or that she would get him to make a police investigation into her lifestyle go away by lying about an unhappy client._

Anastasia shrugged. "It just seems farfetched to me. Beating your cheating wife is such an emotionally charged action. It doesn't seem like something money could pay off, especially for a wealthy man. He could have given her a couple of million and he wouldn't have missed it with the size of his fortune. If he wanted revenge, I'm sure it would have been much sweeter for him to expose you guys than hold back money he wouldn't miss in the first place."

The now too familiar sinking sick feeling was roiling through his gut again. Why hadn't he considered the possibility of Elena's story being fake? Not once in the last six years had he questioned it. Why was it seemingly impossible for him to see through Elena's deceptive bullshit? He was an astute businessman who prided himself on the ability to see through people and read them like books. Why was Elena the exception to this? Why could she so easily pull the wool over his eyes?

Anastasia seemed the opposite. She seemed to see through Elena from every angle. She had an obvious inherent distrust for her and had gone so far as to even try and take her down when she was still merely a teenager by sending the police after her. She saw a plausible hole in Elena's divorce story immediately. It may or may not be true, but the fact that she even thought of the possibility had his mind reeling. Fuck, this was all so much. Since locking eyes with Anastasia as he handed her that diploma, he was being forced to question and face things he never thought he'd have to think about again.

He was already feeling an overwhelming amount of weight from this conversation. Did he have it in him to tell her the truth about why the police suddenly stopped looking into Elena? That was what he came here to do, and instead a whole new can of worms had been opened. At work, he could pile shit on top of shit and handle it all with confidence. But too much of this, too much talk of Elena and his past, it wore on him, grated at his very core until he felt raw and weary. Maybe it would help if he pushed to know more of her story. He needed to face this. He needed to see what brought Anastasia to Elena's doorstep, to her dungeon. Maybe if he pushed to understand her story, he could push past his own discomfort and find a way to offer her the truth and peace she deserved.

"Can I ask you a question?" Christian asked, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"You can ask. I don't know if I'll answer, until I know what it is, but you can ask me anything," she said calmly.

"I've spent years in therapy working though a lot of things from my life. It took me a long time, but I was eventually able to understand why I was an easy target for Elena. I was able to comprehend why what she was offering appealed to me at the age of fifteen, and then into my following adult years." He paused, thinking about his question. She may see through Elena now, but obviously she'd fallen victim to her back then. He wanted to know how she'd ended up letting Elena influence her. What made her a target to Elena back then? "Why did you let Elena talk you into… what we did?"

She shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Like I said before, it was a means to an end. I wanted out of my home situation and she gave me an opportunity to do it."

He bowed his head, resting it in his steepled fingers, a frustrated look crossing his face. He didn't understand that and he hated not understanding things. He didn't pretend to understand the inner workings of the brains of teenage girls, or the brains of any women for that matter, but he had the general understanding that sex was a big deal to them at a young age. That every little girl started out with the 'prince charming' fantasy for their love life. He didn't understand why Anastasia was, and still is, so blasé about the whole experience. "But you were a virgin. Did you have some teenage fantasy about losing your virginity in some super romantic way? Being taken slowly on a plush bed, surrounded by flowers and music and candles, in the arms of a man who loved you and cherished you. Didn't you want that for yourself?"

She let out a light laugh. "You paint quite the picture of a first sexual encounter." Her smile died down from big to gentle as she shook her head. "But no. I wasn't raised to see sex as this intimate, romantic experience to be shared with someone you love. My mom, she never sat down and told me to save it for someone special, never told me it was something precious to share with someone I cared about. I grew up thinking sex was just—," she waved her hand around in the air, looking for the right word, "sex. A tool, even. My mom used to say it was 'a woman's most powerful weapon'. You could use it to get what you wanted, whether that was free drinks are the bar or vacations to Europe. Sex was the key to get anything. It wasn't a big deal. I knew what sex was by the time I turned ten. My mom slept with a lot of men. They were in and out of the house my whole life. I had no idea that that wasn't normal until I got a little older. I didn't know it was a big deal to some people. I had no idea sex was equated with _love_. Sex equaled money, and money was the most important thing in my mother's world."

Christian felt his vision slightly tunnel and the underwater effect hit his ears. _Sex equaled money._ "Was your mother a prostitute?" he asked, his voice sounding surprisingly pained to his own ears. He stood up trying to gain back his foundering control.

Anastasia just rolled her eyes and let out a scoffing grunt at the idea. "No. I mean, I know she did it expecting to be taken care of somehow in return. My mom didn't really buy into the whole 'love' thing. Love, to her, was linked with spending. The more they spent the more she invested herself in them. If you wanted her affection, it came with a hefty price tag. So I know men gave her jewelry, clothes, vacations, that sort of thing. She expected that stuff. But no, I wouldn't officially label her a prostitute. She was just a run of the mill slut. She was a shitty person."

Christian winced slightly at her dismissal of all of this. She dealt with a parade of men in and out of her house her whole life? She was taught by her mother that money was love? These were things that he too had experienced. Lessons that he was taught in his own life. By his birth mother. By Elena. Sex was for money. Men were not permanent fixtures, just passing monetary donations. Sex was best as a loveless endeavor. Love was for fools.

"So she just openly told you all these philosophies of life? She was open with you about it, because she truly believed it?" He asked, unexpectedly finding himself in the seat next to her. As badly as he had wanted to know nothing about her before, all of a sudden he was desperate to understand her. It was like he suddenly couldn't get enough information.

"I mean, for the most part, yes. She never minced words. She was very blunt with her views on money and men and love and sex. But there was definitely manipulation of me on her part too. My mom was honest to a fault about her views of life, but if she could benefit from a lie, she had no problem lying to help her own cause. Like when she left the only real father I ever knew, Ray. It was really hard on me. I loved him. I felt safe with him. But she told me that we needed a new man around- a _real_ man who could take care of us. I was confused because I thought that Ray _did_ take care of us. I _felt_ taken care of with him. But she said that Ray obviously didn't love us. He didn't buy everything she asked for, so that meant he didn't love her. Even looking back, I believe that she believed that. It seemed wrong to me, and I refused to believe it. Ray loved me, I knew it. But, before we left, Ray promised me he's see me soon. He said that he'd come visit, or send for me to come back to Montesano to see him. But he never did. It broke my heart, and when I cried to my mom about it, she said it just proved her point. Then she started to say it was my fault for getting too attached anyway. She said smart woman never got that attached to any man. So I figured she must be right. What did I know? I was a kid, and she was my mom. I thought she knew best. Ray wasn't coming for me like he said he would. So I started to believe that he really didn't love us. I didn't know until years later that Ray had fought tooth and nail to get to see me, and that it was actually my mom who kept him from me. But that's a whole other story."

Christian felt himself lean closer to her. Her scent washed over him, making his whole body flush with heat. _What the fuck was that?_ He lurched back, trying to get away from it. He couldn't sit that close to her. But he was completely drawn into her story now. He had to know what else happened in her life. He'd had a shitty start to life. By all accounts, far shittier than anything Anastasia had just described. However, since the age of four he'd had a good family. He'd fought against their affection his whole life, but they'd tried their hardest to be supportive. But all Anastasia had her entire life was one shitty mother imposing her terrible influence on her every decision. When he'd first asked the question, he hadn't known what to expect, but somehow it wasn't anything close to this type of answer. And he hadn't expected it to end up spawning her to completely open up about the intimate details of her teenage years, with him hanging on her every word like Mia watching a soap opera. The details of her life were horrible. Yet, he saw parallels to his own life glaring back at him. A mother who traipsed men constantly through her home, just as his birth mother had. Being told that love was nothing, that sex was just sex and love was for fools. Money was given in absence of emotion, as he demonstrated every time he gave his submissives money or cars or clothes. But while he obsessed about his issues in therapy, she seemed so jaded about the whole thing. Like she was recounting a trip to the dentist. It wasn't something particularly pleasant, but it wasn't a big deal. But to him, the whole thing was beyond intriguing. Everything about Anastasia Steele was beginning to intrigue him.

"But she remarried," he said, hoping to lead her to continue on with the story of her life. He didn't want to push her too far, but didn't seem to mind sharing this information with him.

"Right," she said, taking a breath. She ran her fingers through her hair before waving them around absently. "So, like I said, my mom's relationships were never about love. I remember one night she told me how she married Ray because she'd just had me, and my birth father died, and she needed someone to support us. She didn't love him. She just needed someone to take care of her and used him. But inevitably she got bored with him, because he wasn't giving her the opulence she felt she deserved from life, so she left him. We moved to Seattle on his dime- part of his military pension, and stayed in a shitty apartment for a while. Men were coming in and out all the time. I knew what sex was by the time I was ten. My mom literally sat down and explained it to me in blunt terms, telling me she needed me to disappear when men were over because women with kids didn't, and I quote, "get the best dick," end quote. I felt like a leper in my own home. She made me feel like I was making her life infinitely harder. It was clear I was cramping her style and that she didn't want me around. Then, just in time for our money to run out, she met Steve and married him right away. He was older and pretty unpleasant, but my mom was beautiful and he was looking for a trophy. They both knew what their relationship was. He was rich and spent a lot of money on my mom even though I came with the deal, so she could give a shit about his personality. She got everything she wanted, everything she asked for. And it was tolerable. Things were kind of stable for a few years.

"But he made no effort to hide that he didn't like me. He'd tell me how I was too quiet, too bookish, too introverted. I needed to dress _sexier_, I needed to wear makeup and obsess about my hair like all the other girls. He constantly told me I would never catch the eye of a prominent man acting all mousy, saying I needed to take pointers from my mom. She always agreed with him. They both constantly scrutinized me. It was like everything I did and said was on display to be picked apart. It made me so self-conscious, like I had no self-worth, because nothing I did was good enough. _I_ wasn't good enough. It wasn't always easy on me living there, but I took solace in the fact that things were at least consistent.

"But then Steve got sick. Occasionally men started showing up at the house once he was admitted to the hospital. Forget about once he died; it was a free for all. She was sleeping with a new guy every week, hoping to get the next big catch to support her financially at the level she'd become accustomed with Steve. She needed to find the next man to take his place. His money wasn't going to last forever. And my mother refused to work. So things got worse again. Men were in and out of the house constantly again. Then, one night I woke up to one of them standing over me while I was in my bed sleeping, pulling my sheets down off of me. It scared me. Really scared me. I felt so unsafe all the time. So I started trying to figure out what I could do to get out of the house. I grew up thinking that sex was a tool to use to get what you needed. And love was for fools. I was miserable at home. Then Elena came along with her proposal. It was perfect. An answered prayer. _A way out_. And it fell in the lines of everything my mom had beat into my head for all those years. Using sex to get what I wanted, and leaving love out of the equation. It was a no brainer at the time for me to say yes to what she was offering."

And there it was. Anastasia Steele's story. Something he'd wondered about randomly over the years, but especially directly following their time together when she was so young. And now he knew. The way she explained it, the way she viewed it as such a rational idea. It bothered him. It was like she didn't see the wrong in all of it. Maybe she was in denial. She could probably benefit from some sessions with a therapist herself. "What ever happened to your mom?"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure. She was still trying to find her next meal ticket when I finally graduated high school and left the house. She didn't know I was planning on going to school. I didn't tell her about it because I didn't want to risk her finding out about the money I had. If she knew it existed, there was nothing that would stop her from trying to get her hands on it. She had nothing left from Steve and was desperate near the end. But she found my paid tuition bill for my first semester at WSU in the mail. She went crazy, wanting to know how I paid for it. She tore my room apart while I wasn't home and ended up finding the bankbook for the account I kept the money in. It was an account Ray opened for me when I was a kid to teach me about saving. It had like, $43 in it at the time and I knew my mom forgot all about it so she would never think to look into it. She went nuclear. She tried to drain the account, yelling at the bank that she was my guardian. But Ray had opened it, not her, so they wouldn't let her. It drove her nuts. She practically attacked me as I walked in the door that night. She backed me up against the wall and was screaming in my face. She called me an ungrateful bitch, saying she'd done everything she could to give me the best life possible, and I repaid her by hiding money from her. She wanted to know where I got it but I refused to tell her. So she accused me of sleeping with the men she'd brought home in exchange for the money. She tried to say she deserved the money as repayment for having to take care of me all those years. That I had held her back from being able to do what she really wanted to do and get the men she truly deserved to get. She said she had to settle on everything in her life because she had _me_ and no one wanted _me_. I just let her scream and scream and scream at me until finally she stormed out of the house. I packed my stuff that night and I was on a bus to Portland by the morning. Ended up finding a listing for a girl, a WSU student, looking for a roommate, on a billboard at school. I called the number and that's how I met Kate. The rest is history. Last I heard, my mom moved out to Georgia and married someone with money out there. I don't know if they're still together. I haven't spoken with her since that day."

"You're very strong," he said, his eyes staring intensely at her face.

She blushed, attempting to brush off the comment as well as the look he was giving her. "I don't know about all that."

"You are. How did you get through all of that and end up where you are?"

"What do you mean? Where am I?" she asked, confused.

"_Happy_," he stressed.

Her mouth popped open and she hesitated for a second before saying, "I'm not sure. The years with my mom- my whole adolescence, they were spent just counting the days until I could get out. It's not to say I haven't been affected by everything that happened while I was living with her. But I didn't want my mother and her actions to define me. I am not her. I refused to be dragged down by her. I wanted my own life, and I was willing to obtain that by any means necessary. I just took it a day at a time until I got out. And I made a promise to myself that once I got out I would never look back. So I haven't. I don't let her life affect me anymore. I haven't thought about any of this stuff for years, until you made your grand reentrance into my life."

"I wish I could do that," he said quietly, more to himself than to her.

"Do what?" she asked anyway.

"I wish I was able to compartmentalize my past from my present and my future."

"I wouldn't say I necessarily compartmentalize. I am fully aware that my past is part of what I am. I just don't let it completely define me. I was a child. I didn't know any better than the life I had with my mom, and I didn't know any better than to follow Elena down the only path that was given to me to get out of it. It's part of me, but not _who I am_."

He sat in silence, thinking about her words, her story, her life. Finally she let out a little sigh before standing up. "It's late and I'm tired. I think I'm going to head to bed," she said quietly, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. His eyes unwittingly lingered on her body as it stretched out, long, lean and tight, before flicking back to her face in time to catch her eyes opening.

"But I have more to talk to you about. The reason I came here- I haven't even discussed it yet."

"Yes, well, we will have to save that for another day. I'm beat. This discussion was exhausting. Truthfully, it's exhausting knowing you," she said with a small smile and a shrug. He stood slowly, hesitant to go. If he didn't come clean now, he didn't know if he would ever gain the courage to do so again. But she wasn't giving him any option as she motioned toward the door, urging him toward it and opening it for him. He stepped into the threshold and she gave another small smile. "Bye Christian," she said softly. He watched dumbly as she closed the door gently in his face, then listened to her retreating footsteps before turning on his heel and leaving her building.


	8. Chapter 8

"You've been avoiding me," his voice came out cold and hard as he stepped up behind her. She jumped, startled by his presence and his tone, before turning around to look up at him, recognizing him.

"I'm not. I've just been busy," she said, shrugging it off and turning back toward the bar, trying to gain the bartender's attention through the crowd.

"I've contacted you multiple times over the last week, Anastasia. I want to finish the conversation we started," he said, his tone almost a warning for her not to defy him.

"I know. And we will. Eventually. Just not tonight. I'm out celebrating my new job with Kate and your brother. Now if you'll excuse me," she said with a forced smile, trying to duck around the side of him to move to the less crowded side of the bar. But he was quick to grab her by the wrist, leading her away.

"Christian, let go," she whined as he tugged her toward a more secluded spot a few yards over.

"You're the one who wanted to be friends. You're the one who tried to push conversations between us multiple times. Why are you fighting me on it now?"

She rolled her eyes, and immediately he felt his blood pressure spike. "Yes. I wanted to be friends. Yes I wanted to get to know you better. But like- I wanted to know what kind of movies you like, what you do for fun, what your favorite color is. I didn't mean I wanted to talk about Elena. Jesus, Christian. I don't like thinking about her. I don't like thinking about my mom or Stephen Morton or any of the assholes from my adolescence. I don't like talking about my past. I did with you, because we obviously needed to find some common ground, some common understanding, and my past is what brought us together, so it made sense to tell you the truth. But it comes with a price for me. I dreamt about all that stuff for four straight nights before I finally managed to get some decent sleep. I moved past all that shit in my life. I'm in a good place with good friends, a nice, safe home, and now, a brand new job. So forgive me if I'm not jumping at the chance to stroll down memory lane again any time soon."

She had dreams for four nights in a row? Dream-dreams, or _nightmares_? He wanted to ask, it was on the tip of his tongue, but he was here on a mission. He needed to stay focused. "I can appreciate all that, but what I need to tell you is important. It's something you deserve to know."

"Well then I can know it another day. Tonight, I am celebrating my job. That's it," she said with finality. Unfortunately for her, Christian's only finality was one he dished out. He wasn't willing to back down on this. He opened his mouth to protest again when he felt an arm sling around his shoulder.

"Hey bro," Elliot said as Christian quickly pulled back from his touch. Elliot seemed unaffected by the gesture however. He was more than used to Christian pulling away from his touch after all these years. "What brings you here?" he asked, obviously knowing the bar scene was not something Christian indulged in. His eyes narrowed in a suspicious fashion as he realized Christian was talking to Ana, who was standing there with a small frown. "What are you doing here?"

"Just enjoying a rare night out," Christian said, not really knowing what other excuse he could come up with that Elliot would believe.

"Alone?" Elliot asked skeptically.

"I was out walking, looking for a place to stop and have a drink, when I saw Anastasia through the bar window and decided to say hello," he said smoothly, pointing to the window adjacent to the bar for effect.

"Right," Elliot said, still not convinced, but shrugging it off rather than push it. "Well we're celebrating Ana's new job!"

"I heard," Christian said, planting a smile on his face.

"Kate sent me to see if you needed help carrying the drinks. She said you were taking too long," Elliot said to Ana with a grin.

"Yeah, sorry. You wanna give me a hand?" she asked, seemingly thankful for Elliot's intrusion into her and Christian's private conversation.

"Sure. Christian, join us for a drink," he said more than asked, officially breaking up the two, leading a relieved Ana and a reluctant Christian to the bar.

* * *

Clearly she'd been imbibing much more than he'd suspected. She was now noticeably intoxicated after the last two drinks he'd seen her consume. He didn't know how much she'd had before that. She'd gone to get another, and he could see the light sway in her step as she walked. So he focused more on her, intent on making sure she stayed safe. She was too respectable, too purely **good** to let some idiot in a bar take advantage of her. Elliot and Kate had been in their own world for the last hour or so. If _he_ didn't watch over Anastasia, who would? Too many guys here were eyeing her. He's noticed the attention she'd garnered all night. And for good reason- she was beautiful, wearing a dress that displayed her flawless body perfectly. And now, intoxicated, she was a prime target for unwanted attention from the male predators surrounding her. He still wanted to talk to her, _needed_ to talk to her, but that took a back seat to needing to make sure she stayed safe right now.

She stumbled slightly as she neared the bar, a probable result of the alcohol and those murderously high heels she was sporting. He saw a blonde, tanned, fit kid nudge his friend, then point to her as she stumbled slightly. When he saw them smirk at each other, then do that damned fist bump thing. His attention became laser focused. He watched the guy get her attention, then give her an over exaggerated once over before stepping closer to her,_ too_ close to her, flashing his bright white teeth. He was talking, probably saying whatever lines Christian was sure he kept in his back pocket for routine use on random bar girls. No way was he letting some low life piece of shit come along and take advantage of her drunken state. He rose from his spot at the table, moving quickly in their direction and finally saddling up next to her, one arm strategically slung around her shoulders as if it was the most casual thing in the world for him to be this close to her and touch her in such a friendly manor.

The blonde narrowed his eyes at Christian before shooting them over to Ana in question. She attempted to slither out from under the weight of Christian's arm, but her just cupped his fingers around her shoulder and held fast.

"Stop," she whispered harshly, but it was too late. The blonde took in Christian's hard glare and decided against putting up a fight for her. He held up his hands in defeat and did an about-face, lost in the crowd before Ana could get out another word. Well, that was easy. Though, it wasn't the first time his patented glare withered away the bravado of other men. Far from it.

"Why did you do that? I wanted to dance," Ana whined, yanking away from him this time.

"You're drunk and an easy target for men right now, Anastasia. It's unsafe for you to be left alone. These boys, who occupy these types of establishments have nothing but less than admirable intentions. They are only looking to slake their most basic of desires, and they will take full advantage of you. I'm not about to let you be another casualty to that lifestyle."

"I wasn't going to sleep with him, Christian! I just wanted to dance!"

He leaned his, his face now inches from hers as his eyes darkened and his voice lowered. "You may not be looking to get fucked, but that's all that was on that boy's mind. Trust me, I saw how he was looking at you."

"What business is it of yours who I fuck?" she asked, clearly becoming exasperated with this whole thing.

"You deserve better than to be someone's one night stand, Anastasia," he said.

"Nope, just someone's one night beat-and-fuck, right Christian?" she spat. Her face fell as soon as she said it, and she looked up at him with regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know that's not how it was. That's not how I've ever looked at it. I was just—"

"It's fine," he cut her off curtly. Drunk Anastasia was apparently even more mouthy than sober Anastasia. With a shake of his head, he took her hand and started tugging her in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stumbling slightly before catching herself, her legs rapidly moving in order to keep up with his long-legged stride.

"You said you wanted to dance," he yelled back over his shoulder as the roar of the music got louder.

Before she could respond, they were on the edge of the dance floor. He moved in a little bit further until they found a space that wasn't arm to arm with the people around them. The he stopped, pulling her against him, his front to her back. He lightly gripped her waist in his left hand, holding her body closely to his, and he began to move.

With her inhibitions lowered, Ana just went with it, rather than argue with him. Hell, this was what she wanted, so she'd better take advantage. He most definitely didn't make a habit of dancing with women in bars.

He wasn't sure how long they were out there. All this music seemed to bleed together in a way where he didn't know when one song was ending and another was starting. He just wanted to keep her safe from all the eyes that had been on her all night. This was the easiest way to accomplish that goal. If she was with him, she wasn't with anyone else.

So they danced, until he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Elliot with an equally intoxicated Katherine on his arm. As soon as Elliot had his attention, Katherine grabbed Anastasia and the two of them talk animatedly in hushed whispers that he couldn't hear over the music. "I'm going to take Kate back to my place. I assume Taylor is around, as always, right? Can you have him make sure Ana gets home safe?"

"Taylor isn't here, but I can make sure she gets home safely," Christian said.

When he looked back at girls, Katherine was grinning widely at Anastasia while Ana glared back at her. Katherine then looked to Elliot, who nodded, then she spoke. "I'm going home with El. Is it cool if Christian has that Taylor guy give you a ride?"

"I will be assisting Miss Steele home myself," Christian said. He didn't know why it bothered him so much that they assumed he would pass the task off to Taylor. Normally, he probably would. But he wanted to take care of Anastasia himself. He would never leave her safety up to Taylor as long as he could be the one in charge of it.

Katherine wagged her eyebrows up and down at Ana, who continued to scowl at her friend's more than obvious suggestive looks.

"Katie girl, take it down a notch. Ana, is it okay if Christian takes you home?"

Ana nodded slowly, looking up at Christian as if asking if it really was okay that he do this for her. He nodded once, trying to reassure her that it was no problem.

"Sure," she shrugged one shoulder up slightly. "I guess that's fine."

* * *

They sat in silence once they'd gotten into the car. He stole glances at her as often as possible without endangering them as he maneuvered the car through the city streets. She was buckled securely into the passenger seat next to him, her knees pressed together demurely, one hand on her purse in her lap, the other propped under her chin, her elbow resting on the door handle as she stared blankly out the window.

As they waited at a red light, he noticed her take a deep breath, then let it out with an almost inaudible sigh. She seemed to come back to herself, looking around the cabin of the car as if she'd forgotten where she was. Confusion washed over her face as she looked out the windows to the area surrounding them.

"This isn't the way to my apartment, Christian," she muttered.

"I know. We are going to _my_ home," he said firmly, pressing his foot gently to the accelerator as the light turned green.

"What? No! Why?" she asked, tilting her body halfway toward him, her hands throw out slightly in exasperation. "I want to go to my apartment. You told Elliot you'd take me home!"

"No, I told him I'd assist you 'home', but I didn't say what 'home'."

She groaned, throwing herself back in her seat with her arms crossed indignantly over her chest. "Christian, come on. I just want to go home and crawl into bed under the nice warm blankets and sleep."

"I have a perfectly adequate bed _with _blankets at my home, in which you will be more than comfortable," he said mockingly.

"You don't just take someone to your place without asking them! How do I know you're not one of those 'boys with less than admirable plans' or whatever you were saying earlier? How do I know you aren't taking me home to take advantage of me?" she spat hostilely.

He looked over at her, quirking an eyebrow in her direction. "Do you truthfully feel uncomfortable with me, Anastasia? Do you honestly believe I am a danger to you, that I would cause you any harm?" he asked, half sure that she was arguing just to argue, and have curious if she was honestly leery of his intentions.

The anger on her face settled into a little frown as she seemed to contemplate his words for a moment. Then stubbornly, she said a simple, "No."

"Good," he nodded immediately. "Because I would never," he reiterated for good measure.

"I still don't see why you can't just take me home," she sulked, her temper gone, but her attitude still present.

"Firstly, my place is closer. Secondly, you're intoxicated and shouldn't be left alone. And thirdly, we still have things to discuss. In the morning, you will no longer be officially celebrating your new job, so we can talk then," he said, leaving no room to broker an argument.

"You're so bossy," she said with a sigh.

"So I've heard," he said dryly. They rode in silence the rest of the way to Escala.

* * *

"Nice place. A little… clinical. But very nice," she said, scrunching up her face as she took in the decoration, or lack thereof, before nodding in approval.

"Why thank you," he said, sardonically at her backhanded compliment.

They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments before Christian spoke up. "Are you hungry? Mrs. Jones, my housekeeper, isn't on duty on the weekends, but she usually has something stored in the refrigerator that we can quickly heat up."

She shook her head. "No, thanks. Elliot treated me to dinner before we went to the bar."

Christian nodded, and the silence again enveloped them. He didn't know how to do this. Normal, casual conversation. Her even being here, standing here in his home was something completely new to him. Should he offer her a tour? Suggest they watch a movie? It was late, half past one o'clock in the morning. What do you do to entertain someone in your home at this time of night?

"Look, I'm really tired and obviously had too much to drink. Do you mind if I just get some sleep, then we can talk about whatever it is you've got on your mind in the morning?"

"Yes. I can agree to that," he said. She seemed more prone to ire in her inebriated state. So it was probably best that he didn't share this particular news while she was under the influence.

"Look at that! He knows how to compromise!" she said, adding a little cheer in for affect. His eyes narrowed at her. That smart mouth…

"Shall I show you to bed, Anastasia?" he asked, purposefully ignoring her remark.

"You can show me to the couch," she said pointedly. "I'm sure it's more expensive than my bed," she added, quietly, her eyes darting around the apartment again, taking in its opulence.

"I did not say to _my_ bed. I just said to bed. I had no intention of sharing a bed with you," he shot back with a raised eyebrow.

"Well… good," she said, her confident smarminess dampened.

"Yes," he confirmed. "You will be sleeping in a guest room upstairs," he said, motioning toward the staircase as he started walking toward it. She followed a few steps, then stopped. "What's wrong?"

She looked down at herself, then back up at him. "I can't sleep in this," she said, like it was the world's biggest riddle how she would ever manage it.

"I can lend you something to sleep in," he said, "Come."

And she did, passing the staircase and instead following him down a hallway. He pushed open a door at the end, entering immediately. He noticed that she remained in the doorway, looking around the room as he moved toward his walk-in closet.

"This is your room?" she asked the obvious. Well, maybe not too obvious. It had no personal affects to make it truly obvious. But it was the safe assumption.

"It is," he said. "You may step inside," he offered, as she remained still standing awkwardly in the doorway, almost like she was afraid to enter. Like she could sense that he didn't let anyone in this room. Taylor had been in a few times during his worst nightmares. And Mrs. Jones, of course, to clean. But that was the extent of it. However, he would take this opportunity to change his own clothes inside of his walk-in. It would be rude to leave her in the doorway for the duration. "I could like to take a few moments to change my own clothes, while procuring yours, if you don't mind."

She shook her head. "Of course," she said, then her face scrunched up in an uncomfortable manor.

"What's wrong?" A blush flushed her face. "What?"

"I have to pee," she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

He smiled, a genuine smile. "There is a bathroom through there," he motioned toward the third door in the room. "Please feel free to relieve yourself."

He entered his walk-in closet as she shut the bathroom door. He knew sleep would be of no interest to him tonight with their morning conversation looming over him. He would put her to bed, then go to his study to work. He just needed to get out of these clothes before he did. He stripped himself of his own clothes, pulling on a pair of soft cotton pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. He riffled through his casual clothing options, opting for a silk pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt he'd gotten from his father the day he'd been accepted to Harvard. He'd never worn it, not being the type to represent his alumni across his chest. However, he'd never been able to actually get rid of the thing. Every time he saw it, he saw the look of pride in Carrick's eyes as he congratulated him. Of course, that thought was always immediately followed by the look of disappointment he'd received when he'd told Carrick he was dropping out. Regardless, it was the only shirt in his collection which he hadn't worn. So he would allow Anastasia the courtesy of being its first wearer. His trip down memory lane was cut short as he heard a loud call of what he was pretty sure was his name.

He tucked the items under his arm, exiting the large closet and once again entering main bedroom. But it was empty, the door to his master bath was now cracked open. Should he go in? Was the inappropriate? What if she hadn't called him and he walked in on her doing something she would be mortified by? But what if something had happened and she had called him because she'd needed help? Before he could contemplate it further, she yelled again.

"Cistan!" he heard her mumbled call. This time he didn't hesitate as he pushed the door open all the way. He leaned against the doorway, eyebrow cocked up in question.

She was standing in front of the vanity, her hand holding a toothbrush- _his_ toothbrush- which was vigorously swishing across her teeth. She caught his eye in the mirror, the she spit into the sink before looking back up at him in the mirror. "How did you know I was at the bar?" she asked, her eyebrows high in suspicious questioning as she glared slightly at him.

He leaned forward, holding out the clothing he'd obtained for her. "Is that my toothbrush?"

"Yes," she said, breaking her gaze with him to turn on the faucet and run it under the water. "How did you know where I was?" She placed his toothbrush back in the holder, then took the clothes from his outstretched hand muttering a quick, "Thanks."

He nodded, shifting his weight so he was no longer leaning in the doorway and was instead on his own two feet. "I tracked your phone," he said simply, then turned on his heel and walked back into the bedroom.

"What do you mean, you _tracked_ it?" she asked, her voice becoming louder with both incredulity and the fact that she was leaving the bathroom and closing the distance between them.

"GPS. Global. Positioning. System," he said slowly, like she was having a hard time understanding him.

"I know what GPS is! Why would you **track** my _phone_? That's… creepy."

"Well, had you returned my attempts to contact you, it wouldn't have been necessary," he said pointedly. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. He clenched his jaw, pulling together enough control to force himself to ignore the rude gesture. "Shall I show you to your room?"

"Yes, please," she said, thankfully resigned.

He led her upstairs, down a hallway where all the doors were closed. He stopped at the second one of the left, twisting the knob and pushing the door open from the side, waving her to enter before him.

"This is a nice room," she said as she looked around briefly.

He shrugged. "It's hardly used. It's usually where my sister sleeps on nights she's in the city late. However, she's been in Paris for a while studying culinary arts, so she hasn't been here in a while."

Ana nodded, sweeping her eyes around the room once more before they landed on his. "Okay, well, thanks," she said, motioning around the room, then tilting the clothes in his direction, in a blanket thank you for everything.

"You're welcome, Anastasia. I will see you in the morning," he confirmed, to which she simply nodded.

And with that he turned, glancing back at her one last time before closing the door behind him.

* * *

His eyes flickered open, confusion washing over him immediately. He was sitting. In a chair. In the guest room. _Ana's_ guest room. His eyes trailed over the bed, seeing as it was obviously empty, the comforter straightened but still slightly mussed, confirming that it had been slept in. Fuck! He'd fallen asleep in her room? How? Jesus, she already thought he was a bit of a creep after he'd tracked her phone! What would she say about this? _If she even stuck around to say anything at all_, he realized. He stood up, scouring the room for a sign of her, seeing her dress still draped over the on-suite bathroom door, which was ajar and also empty. _But she must still be here if her dress is here_, he thought. He glanced at the clock, seeing the glaring 9:06 AM staring back at him. _Shit_. He _never_ slept this late. What the fuck?

He made his way swiftly from the room, descending the stairs. As soon as he hit the bottom, he could make out the sounds of noises in the kitchen. He slowed his pace, not knowing what she would do or say when she saw him. He was sleep in a chair across from her bed for fucks sake! She would want to know why he'd come in her room, why he was watching her _sleep_. Fuck! How had he let this happen? He stepped into the kitchen reluctantly. She was standing in front of the stove, her back to him, as she moved something around in a pan on the stovetop. His oversized Harvard t-shirt hug loosely from her body, skewed to one side exposing the curve of her neck into her left shoulder. He approached the island that separated them, but before he even reached it, she spoke.

"I thought I'd dreamt the whole thing, when I first woke up. I was sure, before I opened my eyes, that I would be in my own bed. But nope. I popped them open and I was here. With you asleep in my room, on a chair, facing my bed, like a creep," she mused, her back still toward him, laughing nervously, like she was hoping he had a good explanation. That is wasn't what it appeared to be, that he wasn't watching her sleep.

The truth was, he'd gone in there for a reason he now couldn't remember. He'd gone to his study as planned. He'd done about an hour's worth of work before the numbers on the spreadsheets started to blur on his computer screen and he'd called it quits. He was tired but knew himself well enough to know he would just toss and turn if he went to his bed. Or worse, actually fall asleep and risk the possibility of subjecting Anastasia to one of his nightmares. That could not happen. He'd entertained the idea of playing his piano, but he was worried about waking her. The next thing he knew, he was outside her guestroom door. A nanosecond later he was in the chair next to her bed. He wasn't sure why. The only thing he knew was that he'd found sleep swiftly after he'd done so, then had woken in the morning confused, but decently well rested. No nightmare. It bemused him.

But he couldn't tell her that. So he made something up on the fly. "You don't remember?" he asked, feigning surprise. She just raised her eyebrows in suspicious questioning. "I came in, because I heard a noise. Talking, or more like yelling. I was just heading to bed after doing some work in my office. I came in because I thought you were coherent. However, when I tried to respond, I was met with nothing. So I surmised you were dreaming. Experiencing a nightmare, actually. I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I decided to stick around for a minute. I must have fallen asleep. I apologize if my presence startled you when you awoke," he said with all the sincerity he could muster, taking a seat casually at the breakfast bar in front of him.

She turned, looking at him disbelieving. "I don't think I've ever had a nightmare like that," she said slowly.

He shrugged. "Consuming copious amounts of alcohol often exacerbates these things," he said nonchalantly. His face remained impassive as they stared each other down for a moment. If he flinched in the slightest, he knew she wouldn't believe him, so he held steady.

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but then slowly she nodded. "Okay. Well sorry for disturbing you," she said as she turned back to finish off the food.

"Don't mention it," he said, letting out a slow breath, thankful he'd successfully dodged that one.

"I made Spanish omelets, I hope that's okay," she said as she plated the dish. Normally he ate just spinach omelets, but he was more than happy to eat whatever she made as long as it was, in fact, edible. And if the smell was any indication, it would be more than simply palatable.

"Sounds wonderful, thank you," he said, truly appreciative. If she hadn't cooked, he'd be having cold cereal this morning, as he did most weekend mornings when he didn't have a contacted submissive, or Gail, to cook for him.

She turned, flashing a quick smile as she slid two plates across the island, one in front of him and one in front of the empty chair next to him. She already had place settings ready, so he grabbed his fork and cut into the omelet immediately taking a hearty bite. Normally he would have been up and would have eaten breakfast hours ago. The fork was still at his lips when she stepped around the side of the island to take her seat. His eyes instantly drew to her legs, following them up alllllll the way to her upper thighs were the hem for his t-shirt obscured their view. His eyes followed it the rest of the way up her body, landing on her face only to see her staring back at him pointedly.

"I could have sworn I provided you with pants, as well, Anastasia," he said impassively.

"Yes," she said. "You did. However, they wouldn't stay on no matter how tightly I tied them." In an instant, she was lifting the hem of the t-shirt, exposing the world's tiniest pair of shorts he'd ever seen. "I found these in the closet last night. I assumed they were your sister's since you said she stays in there."

Yes, they had to be Mia's. Those tiny things were definitely something his dear little sister would wear, then get an earful about from him when she did. He hated when she showed off skin. His eyes raked over her once more, noting that they fit Anastasia like a glove. Quickly he tore his eyes away and back to his omelet before she had something else to call him a 'creep' about.

"So," she said, saddling up on the stool next to him, grabbing her own fork and cutting into her omelet. "You wanted to talk?"

"Now?" he asked, cutting off another bite.

"No time like the present, or so they say," she said with a shrug, taking a sip of the juice she'd set out in glasses in front of them.

"This isn't a light conversation, Anastasia," he warned.

"Are our conversations ever light, Christian?" she asked with a smirk.

He eyed her for a moment, before saying, "No, no they are not."

"So then continue," she said with a wave of her hand.

He set his fork down in order to run both of his hands through his exceptionally unruly morning hair. "I need you to promise to hear me out. You are not going to like what I am about to tell you, but you have to let me explain everything to you. Try to keep an open mind in regards to my role in this."

She gave him a curt nod, steeling herself for his words.

"In my office, you told me a story about contacting the police with regards to Elena," he led.

A frown graced her face as she set her fork down, "Yeah…?"

He took a deep breath, and let it out before he continued. "You know that I provide the financial backing for Elena's salons. I told you that in your apartment." She nodded. "Elena came to me some years ago, saying a patron of hers was making some sort of claim against the salon. I couldn't recall the specifics until I looked up the complaint claimed by Elena in Esclava's files. I checked the files recently and saw it was, in short, a hazardous conditions complaint against the salon. Which was ridiculous, because the salon was pristine. So I believed when Elena told me that the patron was after money. It made sense, how she described the story to me back then. It's bad for business, to be the focus of police attention. So when Elena came to me, I greased a few palms at the police station to make it all go away. That was four years ago."

He sat silently, waiting for her to chew over the information, hopefully reaching the conclusion without him having to spell out "I'm the reason the police shut you down". Of course, Anastasia being the shrewd person she was, the light of understanding shined in her eyes almost immediately.

"You paid off the police to ignore _my_ case," she said softly, thoughtfully.

"After hearing your story and matching up the time lines, I believe that's the case, yes. _However_," he said quickly, turning to her, staring into her eyes in a show of sincerity, "I had no idea. If I had known, I would never have done it. I truly believed it was a simple salon issue. I hated contact from Elena. Loathed hearing from her. I wanted to make her go away, as well as the claim, since like I said, these things are bad for business. So to kill two birds with one stone, I made a simple call to the station. I told them I wanted to help donate something of need to our brothers in blue, and told them to pick what they wanted upgraded. Then I offered a check for it, sliding in that it was courtesy of me and my business associate, Elena Lincoln. They knew that this was persuasion for them to get whoever was making their claim against her to stop. Obviously, they did just that. Once again, without even being aware, I managed to cause distress to your life. I'm sorry, Anastasia."

He sat pensively, waiting, watching her. She stared down at her barely touched breakfast, not speaking, not even moving. The feeling in his gut, the self-hated, the self-loathing, started rolling around full force. He hated the man her was. He hated that all he was capable of causing people around him was hurt and pain. Anastasia deserved none of what she'd been dealt by his hands. Even the most innocent of people were left crumbled in his wake.

The longer they sat in silence, the sicker he felt. He'd expected immediate rage from her. Yelling, screaming, _something_. Not silence.

"Anastasia?" he braved to say, even though it came out more quietly than he'd intended.

More silence followed, before finally she asked, "You truthfully did not know it was me making the complaint?"

"Of _course_ not. I've spent years harboring overwhelming guilt for what I'd done to you that night. I would never, _never_ have denied you the right to justice over it. I would have moved heaven and earth before allowing more upset to happen to you at my hands."

Silence. God, the silence could drive him mad. Kill him, even.

"I feel I've been quite understanding, quite forgiving of a lot of turmoil I've suffered at your hands, Christian," she said contemplatively.

"I agree," he said, making sure she knew, without a doubt, that he knew the pain he'd caused her. She had to know. He couldn't change any of it, but she had to know he regretted it, and had done it, _all_ of it, unknowingly.

"I'm not just talking about the things related to Elena, even though they are obviously the most important, the most volatile. I am also referring to the hateful words you've spewed at me in the recent past. You do not deserve to have me sitting here, calmly discussing this situation with you after some of the things you've said to me, things you've accused me of."

He tugged at his hair. Yes, she was right. He had caused her undue emotional pain intentionally as well as unintentionally. It had all been in a misguided attempt to drive her away, but it had been cruel nonetheless. "You're right. I've been unfair. I acknowledge that and take responsibility for it."

"Okay," she said, picking her fork back up and continuing to eat her breakfast.

Christian stared at her, completely dumbfounded. "Okay?" he asked incredulously, like he simple couldn't comprehend the meaning of the word. Where was the anger? Where was the ire at his betrayal? Time and time again he watched her shrug off these instances of her past that left him sick to his stomach. How was she able? Was she simply so well adjusted that she truly was able to move on from these things? Or was there something deeper, more troublesome brewing in the depths of the psyche of Anastasia Steele?

She shrugged. "What do you want to say, exactly? It's over. It happened years ago. Even then, the statute of limitations was over. I can't keep revisiting that part of my past. I have spent too many years getting away from it to let it keep me up nights now. I appreciate you being honest with me about it. I believe you when you say you didn't know the truth about what you were bribing the police to ignore. I won't hold it against you. The only thing I can hope for now, is that your eyes are a little more open to the truths you thought you knew in regards to Elena, and that you will do something to eradicate her from your life. She is a poison, a disease, a plague that the world would be better without. She had lied to and manipulated you every step of your life, and if you still can't see that, then it's you who is the fool, and you who is responsible for allowing her to still flourish when she should be suffering. You can no longer be naïve about what she is capable of. But at the end of the day, that is none of my business. You have to be the one to see who she really is, what she has really done, and decide to end your connection to her. That's a call on you can make." She took a sip of juice.

"I have begun forming plans to end my business relationship with her," he said softly, like a consolation. As he'd begun to wrap his mind around her true influence in his life, even to this day, the one thing he'd become increasingly sure of was that he wanted no more ties between himself and Elena Lincoln.

"Good," she said with a sharp nod. "So is that it? Is that all the secrets, finally out of the way? Should I expect any more shocking news from you in the future?"

He began to shake his head no, but stopped. Well, there was one more thing she might consider shocking. One more thing she might take badly if he didn't come clean about it now.

"Uh-oh," she said with a mock smile. She rubbed her palms on her legs before patting them gently on the tops of her thighs. "Okay, big boy. Lay it on me."

He stood, his eyes boring into her, beseeching her to trust him. He extended his hand, grasping hers when she placed it delicately in his palm. He walked, grabbing key off a hook they'd passed as he lead her toward the stairs. They ascended, then walked down the hall to the first door on the right. He released her hand, taking the key and pushing it into the lock on the door knob. He turned it, twisting the knob, pushing the door open. He stepped in leaving her room to stand in the doorway behind him. The he flicked on lights, and her eyes washed with red.


	9. Chapter 9

"Oh," she said, a truly surprised look on her face, her eyes flitting across the room.

"Yes," he said, eyeing her cautiously.

"So you still…" she trailed off, her eyes seemingly stuck on the large St. Andrew's cross now.

"Yes," he confirmed.

She hesitated, then asked, "With Elena?"

"NO!" he boomed immediately. "_Jesus_. **No**. I've _told_ you I only have a distant business relationship with her. Plus, I just finished telling you that I was planning on ending **that**!"

She shrugged, "I was just making sure."

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I just wanted to be up front with you about this. You walked away from Elena and never looked back. I didn't do that. I turned my back on her, but what she taught me, how she influenced my life with BDSM and all it encompasses- it's a part of who I am. I _am_ a Dominant. I _need_ that control. Without it, I'm lost."

"You know, you don't owe me an explanation about your private life, Christian," she said gesturing toward the room. "It's really none of my business."

"I know. I know I don't but I wanted to tell you. I wanted… I just wanted to be honest."

She nodded, turning her attention back to the room. "So," she said, seemingly searching for words. "You still do the Dom/sub thing." she stated to bring them back to the obvious topic at hand, taking a tentative step forward so she was now standing in the room with him.

"I do. Exclusively."

"Oh," she said, a little surprised. "Exclusively?"

"It's all I know," he said with a shrug. "It's all I'm capable of."

Her head cocked to the side in questioning. "What does that mean- it's all you're capable of?"

"It means that it provides me a lifestyle free of emotion. And an emotionless lifestyle is all I can do. It is not possible for me to have a traditional relationship."

"I still don't understand," she said, shaking her head like she was confused.

He sighed. "I am incapable of love, Ana. I am not able to love or accept love. So, traditional relationships are not a possibility for me. The only way I can interact with a woman is within the strict confines of the contracted BDSM guidelines."

She was silent for a long pause before she said quietly, "That's silly Christian."

He felt the heat of embarrassment and anger creep up on him instantly. Through clenched teeth, he seethed, "It is not _silly_, Anastasia. It is the cold hard fact of my life. I am not caring, nor kind, nor compassionate. I am an empty, shell of a man. I have no heart. I have no feelings."

"Oh Christian," she sighed. "I didn't mean it as an offense to you. I didn't mean that it is 'silly' to be that way. I am sure there are very real disorders out there which consist of the things you've just described. I meant that it is silly that _you_ are those things. I'm sorry to break it to you, but you are wrong. You are not unkind or uncaring. You are not an empty shell and you have a heart. I am as sure of it as I am sure I am standing here. You are self-deprecating. Self-loathing. But you are not incapable of feelings. I've seen you feel. Just because you've never been in love with a woman doesn't mean you can't. I've seen you care and be kind to me. I've seen your heart. You are generous and compassionate and I've told you all of these things before and I will continue to tell you them again and again until you believe it because I believe it! I know these things about you without a shadow of a doubt and I won't stop until you believe them about yourself." And with that she crossed her arms with a cute little pout.

"I didn't show you this with the intent of starting an argument. As I said, I just felt the need to be honest with you, so I wanted to let you know that I never stopped contracting submissives."

"Contracting?" she asked, obviously sensing she wasn't going to get any further in the 'I have no heart' conversation. Instead she focused on her confusion over his phrasing.

"Yes. I have contracts. It's spelled out in black and white- the do's and don'ts, the hard and soft limits, all the rules that I require of them. This way nothing is left to chance. Everything is on the table and no one can be blindsided by what's expected of them."

"Do you contract a lot of women?" she asked, a curious lit in her eyes. It was very nonjudgmental. Just genuinely interested.

"One at a time, fifteen total over the years. Contracted. I've dominated more than that in the clubs, learning the true ways of BDSM. Elena did not practice it as it should be practiced."

Anastasia snorted. "Duh."

"If you don't think it too forward of me to ask, and even though I'm confident I already know the answer, can I inquire as to whether or not you have practiced BDSM since that night?"

She smirked. "Confident you know the answer huh? Which answer are you so confident of?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "No, Anastasia, I do not believe you've experimented with it since."

"Well you are correct," she said, stepping up to the hooks and shelves that showcased his whips, canes, floggers and paddles. She ran her fingers over the tips of one of the suede floggers, and immediately he felt something stir inside of him. _Shit._ What was_ that_? It had to be a product of the fact that he hadn't gotten laid in so long. It was starting to wear on him, especially given all the stress he'd been under dealing with this whole Anastasia situation.

She surprised him, yanking him from his thoughts when she spoke again. "A little bit of kink has its appeal to me, but the hardcore stuff is just not for me.," she said, running her fingers from tip to tip on his thickest cane. "I spent countless hours researching it, trying to understand what I really hadn't at such a young, impressionable age. I understand why people enjoy it, and I remember how even I enjoyed aspects of it. But I didn't trust Elena and I was doing it for all the wrong reasons back then. But still, no, it's nothing I've been physically involved in since. There's an appeal to being submissive in the bedroom, but being not _a_ submissive in the bedroom."

"Have you been involved with many men?" he asked, looking at her very intensely, his eyes like melted steel. She blushed.

"These are very personal questions, Christian."

"You asked me some pretty personal questions," he pointed out with a small smile.

"Yes, but you opened the box on them when you opened the door to this room," she pointed back.

"I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable," he said, his smile slipping as he started to pull back to his more rigid stance. But she leaned forward, almost like she was afraid of losing him into himself again.

"No. It's fine. I'm just not used to someone being so forward with questions on such private matters. I've dated men. I've had relationships, but not many. I'm pretty selective about the men I have in my life. Probably because of what happened, but I'd say that it's not necessarily a negative side effect."

"Trust issues?" he asked, watching her run her hand over the back of the Chesterfield couch before rounding the bed.

"No," she shook her head, as if trying to think how to explain it, "It's really more about having respect for myself. I did what I needed to do to get myself out of a bad situation before. However, I believe that had I had a positive self-image at the time, I wouldn't have agreed to do what I did. It's a double edged sword. On one hand, doing what I did for the reasons I did it made sense for my situation at the time. But on the other hand, it was a wildly inappropriate thing to even consider. I can tell myself I was totally justified in having sex for money to escape my situation in the same breath as I tell myself that, regardless of having a valid reason, I whored myself out for money. It's not something that keeps me up at night by any means, but when I think about it, I acknowledge that I did both."

Christian frowned. "Have you ever talked to anyone about what happened?"

She splayed her hand open on the mattress on the bed, pressing down gently before peering up at him, cocking her head to the side and flashing a grin. "Sure. You."

"No one else?" he asked. She shook her head. No one? Ever? She just sat on her secret for all these years? Even he'd had John Flynn to help him sort through some of it. Who had she had? No one. Just _him_. And he was a part of the damn problem! "Maybe you should. Maybe you could benefit from talking to a professional about it," he said nonchalantly, like it was weighing heavily in his gut that she may be more deeply affected by this than she'd realized.

"Nah," she dismissed with a lazy swat of her hand. "I've made my peace with it. I'm good." He wanted to urge her to reconsider, but she shut him down. "It's getting pretty late," she said. "I should be getting back to my place. Kate is probably about to burst an aneurysm with what-if's about me staying here all night and half of the morning."

"I'll have Taylor drive you," he said, letting her exit the room in front of him before closing and locking the door behind them both.

* * *

The run was helping, but not as much as he needed it to. Christian had always relied on physical exertion to help off put his stress levels. Running, bouts with Bastille… Sex. Though the sex was a two-for, since it gave him the opportunity to exert his control as well as relieve stress through physical pursuits. So the running was helping relieve some of the stress that had been on his mind lately, but not nearly enough of it. Maybe he would make an appointment with Claude for this evening as well.

As he rounded the path through the park, Christian caught the flash of movement ahead. He looked up, always conscious of his surroundings, to spot a cyclist up ahead. He didn't usually encounter many other people this early in the morning, but it wasn't unheard of. Either way, Taylor was nearby. He was only ever able to relax enough to run outside when Taylor was with him. It allowed him to listen to music and lose himself in his thoughts, because he knew Taylor was mindful of their surroundings so he didn't have to be.

A tap on his shoulder a few moments later alerted Christian to Taylor's desire for his attention. Christian didn't slow down, but removed one ear bud in order to hear Taylor talk.

"Sir, I believe that is Miss Steele at our 2 o'clock," he said pointing toward a runner up ahead of them.

Christian quickly looked. There was a bewildering tightening in his chest at the prospect of unexpectedly seeing her. What was that? Happiness? Maybe a little excitement? It was new, that was for sure. He craned his neck to try and get a better look at the woman ahead of them, but he believed instantly that Taylor had correctly identified her as Anastasia. It was a big part of his expertise to be able to identify people, even among crowds or at distances. If Taylor thought he saw Anastasia, then Christian was sure he had. Picking up his pace just slightly, he was able to zero in on her face as she turned down a fork in the path. Her profile was visible and he was sure it was her as well.

As he got closer to her, he called out to her, but she didn't hear him because she didn't even flinch. Closing the gap more, he realized he was wearing earbuds as well. It instantly sent a flare of anger through him. Did she realize how dangerous that was? She was out here running before the sun had even risen, _by herself_, completely unaware of her surroundings. _He_ wouldn't even do that, and he was much more capable of handling himself should an attack occur. He was right behind her now and she literally had no idea.

He reached forward, grabbing her upper arm to keep get her attention. In an instant her elbow was lodged up under his ribcage, knocking the wind out of him with an "Oof!" Then in a flash, he felt her knee in his groin. All he could do was take a sharp, strangled breath before crumpling to the ground, his hands cupping the most precious part of his body which was now aching so deep he wanted to throw up.

"Oh my gosh, _**Christian**_?" she shrieked, dropping down to her knees in front of him. "Are you okay? Shit! I'm so sorry!"

"Miss Steele?" Taylor spoke coming forward with a friendly smile, "If I may—you might want to give him a minute. The best thing you can do after kneeing a man _that_ hard in _that_ area is just back off and give him some room to breathe."

She nodded, shooting another concerned look to Christian before standing up and backing away a few feet.

His eyes were closed as he concentrated on not throwing up, trying to breathe through the pain, only to be reminded with each breath of the elbow she threw to his ribs. Fuck. Of all the scenarios he could have imagined happening while going out for this morning run, this was one way he hadn't expected his morning would play out.

After a couple torturous minutes, he forced himself to open his eyes, really not wanting to be sitting on the ground on the running path in the middle of the park anymore. There weren't many people out, but didn't want even one person to witness him crumpled on the ground nursing his manhood. His eyes found hers immediately. She had thankfully taken Taylor's excellent advice and backed off for a few minutes, but she was still standing in front of him watching him like a hawk. Before he could stop himself, he was letting his eyes roam over her, taking in skin tight running capris, perfectly formed to those legs he'd gotten a glimpse of in his kitchen over the weekend. A razor back tank top hung slightly looser against her frame. Her hair was hanging down over her shoulder in a braid, her skin flushed and slightly dewy from the run, her breath still coming out in light pants. He felt the tug in his groin, immediately followed by the pain radiating from the area of said tug. He let out another groan, his mind going blank again. All he could think about was the pain he was in right now.

After another minute, he slowly managed to sit up, then aided by Taylor, he hobbled over to a nearby bench and sat down. He finally looked her in the eye, seeing her apologetic expression immediately.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

"It's okay," he said, though still somewhat breathlessly, and more high pitched than his usual deep, rich tenor. "I guess that's what I get for grabbing you with the intent to chastise you for not protecting yourself." She smirked for a split second before it disappeared. "Though I still don't think you should be running alone in the dark with your hearing completely obstructed. It's not safe."

"I'm fine. I do it all the time," she said with a dismissive shrug.

"It's not fine Anastasia. You're making yourself a target. You need a better sense of self preservation. This is not the first time I've been concerned for your safety based on your poor choices," he said irritably.

She rolled her eyes, standing up from the bench. "I don't have time for you to do the parental-figure-berating thing this morning, Christian. It's my first day at my new job and I don't need to start it off being irritated with your lack of understanding that I am an adult who can make my own decisions."

She turned on her heel, and he couldn't believe it. "Ana!" he warned. She's better actually be planning to leave just like that!

"I told you, I don't have time," she said, stretching out her limbs quickly before pushing off into a slow jog away from him.

He jumped up, then hunched forward slightly with a wince from the pain. It again slightly took his breath away just from the suddenness of the jolt, but was a million times better than five minutes ago. But he ignored it as he spat, "So you're just going to leave? You knee me in the nuts and you're just going to jog away?"

"Yep," she called back over her shoulder, the volume of her voice already tempered by her distance.

Christian fumed, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. He caught a glimpse of Taylor through his peripheral vision to see him with a grin on his face.

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" he spat.

Taylor's face dropped to impassive, his eyes still shining with humor. "Nothing, sir."

They continued their jog through the park in silence, Christian's mind racing. He felt gypped with their interaction. He wanted… more. He wanted to actually talk to her. The feeling was unsettling. Normally he was happy to see people rush away from him. He even got a little thrill out of it sometimes. But not now, not with her.

As they stepped off the elevators at Escala, Christian swallowed his pride and turned to Taylor before he could escape to the servant's quarters to ready himself for the day at GEH.

"Can I ask your candid opinion on something, Taylor?"

"Always, sir," he responded, nodding for him to continue.

"If I wanted to influence Miss Steele to contact me, how might I go about doing that?"

He didn't miss the slight quirk in Taylor's eyebrows before his face became stoic again. "May I suggest sending her something as a congratulatory gesture on her first day at her new job, sir? She will likely contact you in order to express her appreciation."

Christian thought it over for a moment. The more he thought the more he liked the idea. "Yes. Yes, that's good. What do I send? Flowers? Maybe a bottle of wine?" He looked at Taylor, a floundering look in his eyes. Was that appropriate? He had no idea.

"A bottle of wine sounds like an excellent idea, sir," Taylor nodded his approval. A rare grin split Christian's face in two.

* * *

He hadn't heard from her since Monday, the day where their interactions consisted of a knee to his balls and a couple lackluster text messages. After his talk with Taylor that morning, he'd arranged for one of his security men to deliver one of his best bottles of wine to Anastasia and Katherine's apartment at seven o'clock sharp. He'd been informed by Taylor that the delivery had occurred on schedule, and that Anastasia had been the one to receive it.

He'd waited. Slowly time had ticked by. He ate the dinner Gail had prepared for him, then he'd gone to his office to distract himself with work. Just before nine, his phone dinged with a new text message.

'**Thanks for the wine. It was delicious.'**

He stared at it, trying to think of something he could use to start a conversation. It shouldn't be too difficult. It was an old adage that women loved to talk, right? Slowly he typed out his response.

'**You're very welcome. I hope your first day went well.'**

There. Now she could respond about her day. A back and forth could start from there.

'**It did. Thanks.'**

He'd frowned at the phone. That left nothing. What was he supposed to say to that? Fuck. Why did he care? Why was he trying to incite communication between them? This was so frustrating. He had no idea what he was doing, or why he was even doing it. He was like a fish out of water. This was completely out of his element. With a dissatisfied grunt, he'd tossed the phone onto the desk and buried himself in paperwork once again.

By Tuesday, he'd convinced himself he was acting like a fool. He'd told himself to gain back his fucking control and stop letting his mind drift to Anastasia Steele. Tuesday had been busy, so he'd been able to avoid thinking about her for most of the day. Until he'd gotten home to Escala. And in the quiet of his vast penthouse in the sky, he'd thought of her again. He made an excuse to go upstairs, a place he normally didn't need to visit unless he was contracting a sub. He entered the guest room she'd slept in, knowing there would be no trace of her. Gail had long since cleaned the room. Once again, he reproached himself for thinking about her, forcing himself to go back downstairs. He walked past the kitchen, and thought about her cooking in his Harvard t-shirt. Fuck. He needed to go to bed. But as he stood in front of the mirror in his master bathroom, he thought of her as he swished his toothbrush around in his mouth, a slow smile spreading on his face.

Wednesday and Thursday went a little better. He randomly struggled to ignore the thoughts of her that loomed in the back of his mind. But for the most part he was able to use long hours at the office as a distraction. Sleep wasn't coming easily, as his nightmares were always an issue, but his piano was always an escape that cleared his mind. He was sure he could do this. Whatever his brief infatuation was with Anastasia Steele, it would pass. He controlled his life. And if he didn't want to think about her, he wouldn't. It could be that simple. Because he was Christian Grey, and he said so.

And now it was Friday. This particular Friday was the busiest day of the whole week for him, and therefore the one that kept him mind off of her nearly completely. He'd needed to fly out of town for some business and be back in time for a late meeting at GEH. It was exhausting. By Friday night, he was simply too tired to be concerned with anything, let alone her, as he dragged himself into Escala. He dismissed Taylor immediately, knowing he too had had a long day. It was already after eleven. He'd been sleeping for shit and stressed to the max. All that was on his mind was just eating whatever Gail had waiting for him to heat up and then going to bed.

* * *

A knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his sleep. He looked at the clock next to his bed. 1:02 A.M.

"Sir?" Taylor called softly but firmly from outside his bedroom door.

"What is it Taylor?" he croaked, sitting up, rubbing his hands over his face. Fuck. The first time he was getting decent sleep in he didn't even know how long, and it was being interrupted. He got up from the bed, pulling the door open to reveal a tired looking Taylor standing there in sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt.

"Sorry to bother you sir, but Miss Steele is downstairs. I would have just sent her away due to the hour, but I thought you might want to see her."

Christian's eyebrows popped up in surprise. She was here? "Yes," he said quickly, maybe too quickly, before catching himself and leveling his tone, "Please let her up."

"Sir," Taylor nodded, retreating back down the hallway.

Christian went to grab a t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He noticed his phone's indicator light flashing on his dresser inside of the closet where he must have accidently left it after grabbing sweatpants earlier. He woke the screen, seeing two missed calls and two missed texts from Anastasia. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. What if she had been in trouble and had been trying to reach him for help and he hadn't been available to her?

He didn't have time to check the messages, as her heard the elevator door ding through the quiet apartment. He took quick strides from his room, stepping into the living room at the same time as she stepped in from the foyer.

"Good evening, Anastasia," he said.

"Ana. For the love of all things holy, it's _Ana_," she snapped, taking him back with surprise.

"Right. Ana," he said, watching her face form in a scowl as she muttered under her breath.

He looked questioningly, almost pleadingly, at Taylor, who just gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Christian nodded once, then cocked his head to the side to dismiss him again for the evening. Even though he was torn between wanting backup if Anastasia was in a mood, and wanting privacy so no one else witness how helpless he was going to be while attempting to handle this situation. He was no good at this when she was in a good mood, and he didn't know if he'd ever seen her as irritated as she seemed to be right now.

"What brings you by, so late no less?" he asked, attempting a casual tone. And she jumped right in full force.

"Your stupid brother and my stupid best friend, that's what," she said as she shed her jacket, tossing it on the couch along with her purse while she spoke. "I was stressed out, okay? Really, really stress out from work. So of course, _of course _Kate insisted we go out. It didn't matter that that was the last thing in the world that _I_ wanted to do. No no. So we went out. Under the false pretense that it was supposed to be for _me_ to decompress. But instead, she invites Elliot. And I think we can all guess what happened from there. I was left sitting by myself, fending off drunken idiots while those two got trashed and dry humped on the dance floor for hours. But we all drove together, so I couldn't leave. Couldn't even take a cab because I can't leave those idiots to operate a vehicle while they're plastered. So I finally convince them to go, and they insist on coming back to _our_ place, not his. Why? Because '_Ana will make pancakes in the morning'_," she said in a mocking voice, "Literally. I heard their drunk not-so-quiet 'whispering' of this while I was carting their asses home. Next thing I know, Kate is topless in the backseat of the car. I mean, come on! They barely make it upstairs before they're going at it. On the living room floor, mind you. I rush to my room to wait it out, which takes, _sorry for your brother_, not that long. Then they move to the bedroom. But they have no decency to even keep the noise down. And her headboard shares a wall with my bed, so I have to listen to it knocking right behind me over and over and over. And they are both **loud**. It's like a contest of who can be louder. I swear to God. I was over it. I just couldn't anymore. I'm so tired. I had a long week. And it was the final straw. I tried calling you, since I literally have nowhere else to go, since I know _no one_ here. But you didn't answer. So I was driving around and I just kind of ended up here. I'm sorry to intrude."

Christian stared at her for a few seconds, almost deer in the headlights. It took time for his brain to catch up with the verbal diarrhea she'd just spewed at him. He had no idea a human being could even talk that fast. **Mia** didn't even talk _that _fast.

She threw herself on his couch a moment later, burying her face in the arm. A muffled groan escaped her before she spoke. "I'm so. tired. All I wanted since the moment I left the office was to sleep. Can I please sleep here? It's so quiet here," she whined, turning her face to flash him a pout.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the look he knew was still sitting on his face. "Of course. You're welcome to stay the night in the guest room again," he said.

"Thanks," she sighed, craning her neck as if she was uncomfortable.

He remembered her saying something about being really stress out from work at the beginning of her rant. Why was she so stressed after only one week there? Were Elliot and Katherine really the problem, or was she projecting because there was something wrong at work? She was so excited to start her new job. The idea of work affecting her enough to change her from her usual calm, composed, cheerful self to_ this_ bothered him. She normally seemed so unflappable. Something really bad must have happened if it was able to affect her this much. Unless extreme stress always caused her to lash out. It's not like he really knew her well enough to know. Before he could stop himself, he was verbalizing a snippet of his thoughts.

"Are you always in this bad of a mood when you're stressed?" The way her head snapped to face him and the look in her eyes told him immediately that that was the wrong thing to say.

"Excuse me?" she snapped.

"That came out wrong. I just meant… obviously you are not your normal self here. And you said that you were really stressed from work. I was wondering if this is your normal reaction to stress, or if you're having a particularly rough time at work that's causing you to lash out. It was a question born from concern, I assure you. I didn't mean to insult you."

Her angry expression dropped and she frowned for a moment before she sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm tense and irritable. I'm annoyed and taking it out on you. I'm sorry. It's not you, I promise," she said shifting her shoulder uncomfortably as she stretched out her neck. "My first week at work _was_ really rough. Like I said, going out was the last thing I had on my mind but Kate insisted. I just wanted to be at home, and now I can't even sleep in my own bed. You're doing me a favor and I'm being bitchy. I'm sorry. I appreciate you letting me stay here. It's very nice of you."

"What happened at work?" he asked. He didn't know a whole lot about what you were supposed to say to a woman in normal conversation, but from talks with Elliot, he knew better than to acknowledge that she was being bitchy, even if she was. And he knew not to talk badly about her best friend, even if shewas. So he decided to stick with the most straightforward thing, the thing he wanted to know about anyway—her job.

"I think they think I'm an idiot," she groaned, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'm sure you're wrong. You are very smart, personable and professional. I'm sure you made a good impression," he said, taking a seat next to her. She had a good personality. If she would interview with GEH, she would surely be hired as long as her resume was qualified.

"No, I'll admit as soon as I walked in the door on Monday I was nervous so I know my lack of confidence showed. I could have done better to hide it. I actually tripped and fell in the doorway the first time I went into my boss's office. Like, hands-and-knees-on-the-ground fell. It was so embarrassing," she said, then shrugged followed by a quick wince.

Before he could think better of it, Christian was wrapping his long fingers over the curve of her slender shoulders and gently working through the tense muscles.

Ana's eyebrows rose in surprise and she let out a light laugh. "I had no idea Mr. CEO was also a masseur."

"I'm actually quite competent at many things, Miss Steele," he said. She needn't know why he was good at massages- needn't know that he'd fucked so many woman to such intense lengths that he'd, as a Dom providing aftercare for his subs, massaged out their tired and achy muscles. She needn't know he'd taken a day course at a BDSM club with a professional masseuse to learn how to do this.

And she didn't ask. She just shifted her position so her back was to him and melted into his expert touch with a soft groan. The minutes ticked by and his fingers skimmed across her shoulders, wrapping around the back of her neck before nimbly digging into the spot where her neck gently sloped into her back. A shiver ran down her spine and she inadvertently let a deep moan escape. The noise was so sensual it caught him off guard and his fingers stopped their ministrations. They both sat in a still silence and he watched the redness creep up between her shoulder blades to her neck. She quietly muttered and embarrassed apology.

"It's fine," he dismissed, before beginning again.

He continued to work and she maintained her silence. Eventually he noticed her breathing change and he stopped. When she didn't move he whispered, "Ana?" Brushing the strands of hair from her face, he saw that her eyes were closed. It was good, he supposed. He wanted to talk, but she had said she was exhausted, so it was best that she get the sleep. He watched her peaceful face, her chest rising and falling slightly, and he let out a breath. Slowly he eased away from her, grabbing a blanket and laying it over her frame.

It was almost hypnotizing watching her. Her slow breaths in and out, in and out. Nothing else on her moved, just the slight rise and fall of her chest to indicate she was alive.

He was having a hard time figuring out what he was doing with her. He had to admit to himself that he was pleased that she'd even thought to come to him when she needed to get away. He could have had Taylor send her away due to the hour. After convincing himself all week that he didn't need to see her, he threw it all out the window and jumped at the first chance he had to do just the opposite. And he'd _wanted_ to talk about her, wanted to know about her day, about why she was upset. He'd been concerned for her. Why? Why did he feel this desire to connect with and understand her? It was something he never wanted. Until very recently, he never wanted to see her another day in his life. She was a bad memory, one of his worst. But now he found himself interested in casually spending time with her. But why? What was it about her that had him increasingly infatuated?

Her story was a part of it. It wasn't the same as his, but there were similarities. There was common ground. And that made it easier for him to talk to her. He'd been more honest with her than with anyone in his life to date. He couldn't deny the connection they had. And her personality—it was so easy to talk to her. She was so nonjudgmental. The reason he _could_ be so honest with her is because she just accepted it- accepted _him_.

Was this friendship? Was this what it was like for the rest of the world who had people they could talk to, who knew them, who they trusted? On a basic level, it unsettled him. It was so new, he was so unused to it. But on a deeper, more meaningful level, it was comforting. It sent a calming wave through him to know he had someone in the world who knew his secrets but didn't hate him for them. He never thought that was a possibility.

Standing up, he turned off the side table lamp. The glow of the moon through the wall of windows was enough to light the room if she awoke in the middle of the night. Making his way to his room, he made a mental note to talk to Flynn and ask if what he had in Anastasia was a friend.


	10. Chapter 10

Not wanting to risk waking Ana up if she was still sleeping on the couch, Christian had spent the early morning hours working from his laptop in his bedroom. It was Saturday, so Gail wouldn't have been in the kitchen making breakfast at 6:30 like she usually was during the week, and therefore Ana would remain undisturbed. After wasting as much time as he could on work, he took a quick shower, throwing on some leisure clothes before finally making his way into the main living area around 8AM.

He passed by the couch, surprised to find it empty. Maybe she'd woken in the middle of the night and made her way to the guest room? He turned to the staircase, but heard a noise in the kitchen before he even made it up one step. Making his way to the kitchen now, he expected to see her in there, but was instead met with the presence of Gail who was washing dishes.

"Gail, what are you doing in here so early on a Saturday? Where's Anastasia?"

Gail turned around, her normally friendly smile somewhat turned down with sympathetic tilt. "I came in this morning to borrow some milk for my coffee and found Miss Steele rummaging around the kitchen for food. I offered to make her something. She tried to decline, but I could tell she was hungry, so I insisted. She ate quickly. She seemed apprehensive about leaving without speaking to you. I offered to check and see if you were awake, knowing your sleeping patterns often have you up early, but she didn't want to risk waking you up. She said she regretted having to leave without seeing you, and asked me to please extend her apology, as well as her heartfelt appreciation for letting her stay last night."

"So she's gone?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room for a moment like she might actually pop out from behind a counter or something.

"Yes, sir. She left at about a quarter after seven," she said with an apologetic shrug. "There's extra food on warm in the oven for you. I figured since I was cooking for her, I'd make enough for you to have a good meal as well."

"Thank you Gail," he said, dismissing her back to her quarters before removing the food from the oven and eating.

It was Saturday, but he had plans at the office today. The wheels had been set in motion to sever business ties with Elena Lincoln, and paperwork had just been completed to remove Grey Enterprise Holdings as the financial backing of Esclava Salons.

It was straight forward business. If Elena had been saving her earnings wisely, there was even a shot that she could back herself now, rather than having to search for another willing investor. The salons were definitely profitable enough. Christian has always taken a meager wage from them, really only enough to replace his costs. Elena kept all the profit. He hadn't needed it, and he had drawn up the contracts at a time when he thought he'd owed her. So he's been more than willing to front her the necessary funds at cost.

But now he wanted out. He was done. And whether or not Elena had the financial capabilities to back herself was of no consequence to him. He'd done more than his fair share for this, even if Elena has been completely honest with him from the beginning. But the truth was, she hadn't. She had been the epitome of dishonesty, of manipulation.

That was why he could now don a suit, go into his office, and terminate their business relationship without a second thought. At one time he held Elena in the highest esteem. Grace and Carrick has loved him, had saved him. But Elena knew him. And she was the only one who did. But now, he was starting to think, maybe that was his fault. He'd been the one to push away his family. He'd been the one unwilling to trust them to accept him. His life wasn't what he had thought it was all these years. Maybe, at another time, he should sit down and think about what he really wanted from life. Hell, if he was capable of a potential friendship, who knew what else he was capable of which he'd never considered because of the words Elena had taught him all those years ago.

* * *

Monday morning brought with it the barrage of phone calls from Elena beseeching Christian to speak to her regarding the 'mistake' the bank must have made over the weekend. He'd expected her call, and made sure Andrea continued fielding them so Elena could not get through. Mrs. Hipp had all the information Elena needed to answer all of her questions, if only Elena would call her. Still, every hour when Andrea gave him an updated list of his missed calls, there were multiple offenses from Elena.

Instead, when he had a little free time, he chose to contact Anastasia instead. He'd been in contact with her since Saturday, the most recent night she'd spent as Escala, but only through a few texts sent back and forth, mainly checking on her wellbeing. It was nothing loquacious. He'd ensured her safety getting to her apartment that morning after he'd gotten the message from Gail that she'd left. He'd gone to work, done what he needed regarding Elena, and had come home to his big, quiet apartment. He'd considered trying to reach out to Anastasia to see her that night, but thought better of it. It was a Saturday, and she probably had plans. Sunday had passed, including a family dinner he'd begrudgingly agreed to attend, and then he'd again gone back to Escala. Now, Monday, with everything official regarding Elena, he felt the urge to reach out to Ana again.

Pulling up his email, he quickly typed out his message to her and sent it.

**From:** Christian Grey

**Subject:** Dinner?

**To:** Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele,

I was wondering if you would be so inclined as to accompany me to dinner tonight. My treat, of course.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc.

He drifted back into work, and when he checked his inbox a half hour later, there was a returned message waiting for him.

**From:** Anastasia Steele

**Subject:** Re: Dinner?

**To:** Christian Grey

I am most curious to find out how you have obtained my email address. Add that to 'creepy' list, Mr. Grey. Though I can't say I'm surprised. If you were so easily able to track my phone, I have no doubt you can get something as simple as an email address. As for your request? Sure, I'll have dinner with you. When and where?

Ana

He quickly responded.

**From:** Christian Grey (1:44PM)

**Subject:** Re: Re: Dinner?

**To:** Anastasia Steele

As I told you before, Miss Steele, you can find anything if you want it badly enough. As for diner, I was thinking 7:00 at the Mile High Club. I can pick you up at 6:30 if you would like.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc.

He found himself smiling slightly. She said yes. And he was looking forward to it. Not just to telling her the news that he'd cut ties with Elena, but to just seeing her in general. Just spend a little time with her. To do something normal and enjoy a social situation rather than feelings completely out of place in it. He was planning to take her to the Mile High Club. He was going to take her out. In _public_. To _his_ restaurant. And eat a nice, normal meal with her. It was so novel, the whole idea of 'normal'.

Friendship.

He was still stuck on that concept. He'd been mulling it over in his mind ever since Friday night, and it still confounded him. While he awaited her reply, he pulled up the internet browser and absently typed in the word 'friend'.

_Friend: frend/ noun_

_1\. a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations._

Immediately the definition was off-putting. Affection? That was a little… much, wasn't it? Regard? Sure. Partiality? He would agree to that. He could even go so far as to say he had a predilection toward her. But _affection_? That word threw the brakes on him a little. It was disconcerting to associate a woman with the word affection unless it was Grace and Mia, but the context of that was completely different.

Minimizing the screen, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He really needed to talk to Flynn about it. Luckily he had an appointment scheduled for Tuesday at lunch.

Opening up his email window again, he saw her response waiting.

**From:** Anastasia Steele

**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Dinner?

**To:** Christian Grey

See you at 6:30!

Ana

* * *

The meal was nice. Christian has requested a semi-private table so they would not be the center of attention at the restaurant. He wanted to focus on her, not on the people focusing on them. And people _would_ look. They _always_ looked, but especially if he was bringing a girl out, people were going to be interested. Because it was a novelty.

Taylor had informed him that he'd secured them Christian's usual fully private table for dinner, but Christian had asked him to alter the arrangement, instead opting for the semi-private. His head of security had actually done a double take at this information. Christian almost laughed. It was hard getting a reaction out of Taylor, but this had done it. Christian rarely dined in the open. Even business meetings were done in the cloak of privacy. Taylor was aware how much his boss valued discretion. Christian wasn't able to put into words exactly why he was opting for semi-private this evening. He hated anyone getting in his business, but if a few high society types, the types who dined at his club, managed to sneak a peek of him eating with Miss Steele, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

They'd fallen easily into conversation, talking about random things, just getting to know each other better. She'd shared with him her love for literature and her desire to be an editor. She'd been shocked to learn he'd dropped out of Harvard, just having assumed he'd graduated. Then she'd immediately shared how impressed she was, rather than judging him negatively, that he was able to build his company as he had without even finishing college. She'd asked about his company, and listened intently while he explained a basic version of what GEH did. She'd been legitimately captivated with his ability to fly a helicopter, sail a boat, and pilot a glider. He offered to take her on excursions to do all three and she'd excitedly accepted the invitation. She'd laughed, saying how boring her life must seem in comparison to his. He'd immediately disagreed, saying how he found her more than fascinating. She'd shrugged off the compliment with a blush and a shake of her head.

The food had come and gone, along with about an hour's worth of time that had felt like fleeting minutes to him. They'd long since finished up their main courses and were now indulging in expensive glasses of wine and easy tête-à-tête.

Ana had looked at her watch, shocked to see so much time has passed. "Oh my! It's getting so late! We've just been sitting her, holding the table. The staff must be livid that we're still here!"

Christian gave her an indulgent smile. "I don't think they mind. I own the place."

Her eyebrows popped up as she threw her hand out in fake exasperation. "Of course you own it. _Of course_ you do," she said with the most endearing giggle before taking another sip of her wine. They smiled at each other lazily. "I had a good time tonight, Christian. This was all so wonderful—the food, the wine, the company. Thank you for everything," she said sincerely.

"You're welcome Ana," he replied with equal genuineness.

His smile faltered a little before he took a deep breath. "I've had such a nice time getting to know you better, I haven't even touched on the reason I invited you out tonight. I had some news I wanted to share with you that I thought you should and would want to be made aware of."

"Do tell," she smiled, her eyes lighting up in a playful manner as she leaned slightly into him, as if they were about to share some sordid secret.

"I have severed business ties with Elena. The paperwork was officially filed this morning," he said, waiting with baited breath for her reaction,

Her smile dropped, the playfulness gone from her eyes. She seemed to mull over the information. "Okay," she said slowly, nodding, before dropping her eyes to the table.

"Okay? That's it? Okay? I thought you'd be happy," his deep voice reverberated lowly as he leaned toward her. He wasn't angry, he was confused. This wasn't the reaction he'd expect after she so vehemently argued that he shouldn't be involved with Elena anymore.

She looked up, taking a slow sip of her wine, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I _am_ happy for you. It's good that you are extracting her from your life," she said.

"Then what's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing Christian. It's good. Of course it's good. I just worried about—" she cut herself off, seeming uncomfortable with continuing her thought.

"Worried about what?" he urged.

She paused, then leaned forward, beseechingly. "_You_. I'm worried about _you_. I'm worried about what she'll do. She's had holds on your life you've never even considered. You seem so… oblivious to her manipulation. And she'd obviously gone to extreme efforts to make sure she still was involved in your life in some way. I just worry that she's not going to give up so easily, and I worry about what that means for you."

"You're worried about me?" he asked, sitting back, blindsided by her concern. She'd been so nice all this time. So accepting of him. That in itself had been hard for him to grasp. But genuine concern? For him, for his wellbeing? He was at a loss. He didn't know how to handle seeing those emotions directed at him form someone who wasn't a member of his family.

She gave an embarrassed half shrug as she too leaned back into her seat.

"Why?" he asked, shaking his head, feeling more and more dumbfounded. "I don't understand."

"You're a good man, Christian. Over and over, I've told you this. And what Elena did to you, it wasn't right. And the hold a pedophile can have on a child she's abused can last a lifetime. She had control of you for six years. _Six_ **years**. She's dangerous. She's a predator. I just worry that you'll never be able to uncloud your judgement on her, and if she gets the chance to take advantage of you again, I worry she won't hesitate in taking it."

He leaned forward again, dropping his voice to a deep, soothing tone. "Don't worry about me, Ana. I can take care of myself. I fell for her tricks before, when I was young and still confused by all that she did to me. It was unwise of me to sweep it under the run all these years and never go back and question what she said back then, but it doesn't mean I would fall for her tricks now. She did manipulate me, you're right. But I'm a different man now. And I would never let her get close enough to me to try and spin her bullshit anyway. I'm telling you, I'm done with her."

"Okay," she nodded reluctantly. "If you say so, if you're sure."

"I'm sure," he assured. "Elena Lincoln will never have the chance to influence my life again."

The bubble of intensity in which they had found themselves was popped as a voice called out Christian's name. They both looked up to see Elliot coming toward them, Katherine on his arm, and his parents in tow.

Fuck.

Suddenly the idea of dining semi-private seemed careless. What was he thinking when he made that decision? The last thing he needed was to have to deal with his family finding him out in public having dinner with a woman. Worse, Katherine's best friend, and a woman they'd already been introduced to. He couldn't even lie and say she was a business associate. He wasn't ready to put the idea of having a friend out there to his family, not before he talked to Flynn. Not before he could even figure it out himself.

"Elliot, Katherine, Mom, Dad," he greeted them all with a firm nod as he attempted to discretely distance himself from Anastasia and the way he was leaning in toward her.

"Ana," Elliot smiled, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "What are you doing here with my brother?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Kate was looking between the two like she'd just swallowed a bug. Grace looked like she has just been told she'd won the Nobel Peace Prize, and Carrick was the only one managing to keep a stoic expression at the sight of the two unlikely companions.

"We're just having a friendly dinner Elliot," Ana laughed off his implication before standing to shake hands with Grace and Carrick. "Mr. Grey, Dr. Trevelyan-Grey, it's so nice to see you again."

"Grace and Carrick, please dear," Grace insisted.

"Hi Kate," Ana acknowledged her friend, who was obviously trying to urgently have some sort of non-verbal communication with her. But for her part, Ana seemed to be purposefully ignoring Kate's obvious ploy for her attention.

"Would you two like to join us for dinner?" Grace asked, a hopeful glint in her eye.

"We actually already ate, Mother. We were just finishing up, right Anastasia?" Christian asked. And thank whatever powers may be that that was the truth. There was no way he wanted to get caught in the circle of looks and awkward questions that would be a sit down between the six of them.

Luckily Ana nodded along apologetically. "I'm afraid he's right. And I have an early morning tomorrow, so I really do need to get getting home," she said, smoothing her skirt down her thighs as she stood up.

"Oh," Grace said, clearly disappointed. "Well maybe you can join us for a family dinner on Sunday?"

Christian stood up as well, shooting his mother a look. Seriously? She was inviting her to a family dinner based solely off the idea that he had had dinner with her this evening?

"I'm not sure how my weekend looks right now, but I do appreciate you extending the offer. You have such a lovely family, I would be lucky to be invited to spend time with you all," she said graciously but noncommittally. Grace beamed a smile as her. His mother was like putty in her hands right now.

"Christian, would you like to join us?" Grace asked, the look in her eyes clear as day telling Christian she was dying to as him some questions.

He couldn't be more grateful that he'd been Ana's ride, and therefore had a truthful reason to say no. "I have to give Anastasia a ride home," he said, unable to hide the happy tone in his voice that he couldn't stay, causing Elliot to let out a chuckle. Carrick smirked. It seemed his whole little family could also tell Grace had ulterior motives to having her son join them.

"Of course," Grace plastered on a smile.

Carrick stepped in to finally put an end to this whole thing. "Good night, son, Ana," he said shaking Christian's hand, then Ana's again.

"Yes, goodnight," Grace said, leaning forward to kiss her son on the cheek. "Please remind Ana about Sunday and let us know if she'll be able to make it to dinner. It was nice to see you both. Have a safe trip home," she said. Then she stepped forward and pulled Ana into an unexpected hug.

"Yeah," Elliot said, only sort of discretely pulling out his wallet and handing Christian a condom. "_Be safe_, little brother."

Christian glared at his brother, shoving the condom into his brother's hand quickly, looking up in time to see Ana staring at their hands and blushing. Fucking Elliot.

Kate saw it too, but she was too focused on Ana to bother reacting to Elliot. She pulled her friend into a hug and whispered, "Try to stay awake. I'll be home tonight. Seems we have some catching up to do," she said, her voice almost warning.

Ana just sighed, bid the group goodbye, and let Christian lead her out of the restaurant.

* * *

Christian sat on the couch in Flynn's office staring intently at the man with whom he'd shared all of the sordid details of his past. But for once, this wasn't about his past. This wasn't about overcoming what had happened to him when he was four, or fifteen, or even twenty-two. This was about his present. This was about gaining some clarity about normal human relationships. And he was all ears. He'd been eager for this session since he'd first considered the idea of Anastasia and he being friends.

After recounting the events of the latest times he'd shared with Ana, the ones he didn't spend spewing hateful words at her, Christian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, like he was in great anticipation of Flynn's analysis. "I have no frame of reference here. Is that friendship? That kind of… connection? Concern for one another? Caring about her day? Being interested in what's happening in her mind, in her world? Does that sound like the things at friendship entails? Could we be _friends_?"

A short silence followed as Flynn jotted down some quick notes. He didn't make eye contact as he casually asked his next question. "Do you think she could she be more than a friend?"

Christian narrowed his eyes at him. He couldn't possibly be asking what Christian thought he was asking. After all the countless hours Christian has spent in this office with this man discussing the things they had, Christian knew he could not be asking about _more_. Flynn looked up to see Christian's look in incredulity and decided to change tack.

"Are you attracted to her?"

"No," he scowled immediately, knowing now that 'more' was _exactly_ where Flynn was going with this. But it was ludicrous. Absolutely _preposterous_. His interest in her was purely platonic. There was intrigue about her story, her personality, _her_. But it was all innocent. It was all just benign curiosity.

"I'm just talking purely physically here, Christian. I'm not asking if you're in love with her. I'm not even asking about emotions. I'm just asking, if you didn't know her and saw her walking down the street, would you be attracted to her?"

"No," he spat again, firmly.

"Are you sure?" he pushed, "She's obviously your type. After all, that was why Elena chose her, correct? She epitomized what you desired physically. Not only that, she was the first woman you'd ever had who embodied all those traits you'd found carnally pleasing. It makes sense that you would be attracted to her."

"I'm am not. attracted. to. her," he said through gritted teeth.

"Were you not attracted to her when Elena first introduced you?"

Christian glared at him, not answering. But John just sat still, looking at him, waiting for his answer.

"I was," he croaked quickly, "But she was _sixteen_. It was **wrong **to be attracted to someone so young."

"Ignoring the fact that you didn't know she was so young, and have spent years stewing in the guilt over finding someone so young sexually attractive," John said, making sure to note it aloud for Christian's sake. It always seemed to help pull him from the ledge when John acknowledged that Christian regretted his behavior. He was still so ashamed of it, like the guilt was always gnawing at him. "It's not wrong for you to be attracted to her _now_. She is no longer sixteen Christian. She is a grown woman now."

"Not to me," Christian said quickly. "In my mind's eye she is still that sixteen year old girl with tears streaking down her horrified face. That's who she will always be to me," he said, hanging his head and running his fingers through his hair.

John paused, letting the silence set in before he spoke again. "Then to answer your question, no, I don't think you and she can be friends," he said firmly.

Christian's head shot up, her face full of confusion. "We can't?"

"No. Without talking to her, just from your version, Anastasia seems to accept you for who you are. However, you do not accept her for who _she_ is. You still picture her and treat her like the innocent sixteen year old she was when you met her. But from all you've told me, she seems to have grown into a strong, impressive young woman. If you can't move past what she was and see her for what she is, then no, you can't build a _real_ friendship with her."

He felt a pang of- what? Disappointment? He found himself enjoying the back and forth he was having with Anastasia. If that was friendship, he was kind of pleased with the idea of finally having a friend.

Immediately he scowled, chastising himself for being disappointed over something so stupid. He didn't need _friends_. Least of all, a friendship with her. How fucked up would he be to have his first real friend be the girl from who he recklessly stole her virginity. It was asinine.

Flynn watched Christian internally react to his statement. Emotions. That's exactly what he wanted to incite in his client. This was a rare occurrence for him to be able to try and convince Christian that he was more than he gave himself credit for. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't heartless. He was a living, breathing, feeling human being just like the billions of other people walking this planet. Only, he kept himself isolated so he didn't have to deal with the emotions the rest of the world did. If he would just open himself up to one person, he would soon realize everything he believed about himself was untrue.

But getting him to do that was like pulling teeth. Getting him to admit he could feel toward anyone outside of his family had been a battle since the first day the young man had strode into his office and plopped down on the couch with a scowl. This was the first time he'd come to John with emotions. This was the first time he'd truly seemed to want to be told he could do this 'normal' thing. But if John didn't nip it in the bud right now that how Christian viewed Anastasia was wrong, then he would never be able to do it. If Christian wanted a friendship, or as John suspected, possibly more, from Anastasia, he would need to learn that who Ana was and who she is now were not the same people.

* * *

He didn't find her attractive. He couldn't. It was sick. Sure, _technically_, physically she was the personification of his desires. But he wasn't actually _attracted_ to her. Flynn had really crossed a line today. At least Christian has set him straight over it. He'd given him a piece of his mind before bailing early on the session. He'd gotten the answer he'd been seeking anyway. He felt a hint of disappointment deep inside at the idea that a friendship would never be a possibility for them, but at the same time, it was sort of a relief. Relationships with people complicated things. He didn't need that in his life. There has been something reassuring about the idea of a friendship with her, but he would do just as well without. He had his whole life, after all.

Groaning, Christian sunk down into his bed, ready to attempt some sleep. He was hoping for a decent night of it. He'd been running on nearly empty this last week.

He closed his eyes, trying to dismiss all of his thoughts in order to let sleep come more easily. And slowly he drifted away…

_Everything was black, but then suddenly she was there. He knew because he felt her. He turned to see her standing in his kitchen, her long, bare legs drawing up underneath his Harvard shirt. In a flash they were at the park, her skin tight running pants clinging to her ass, her hair pulled back in a braid, away from flushed face, neck and chest, which were glistening with sweat born from physical exertion. Another flash. She was standing in his playroom, gingerly running her fingertips over his floggers, his canes, his couch, his bed. Then she was on his living room couch, releasing a moan while he gently dug his fingers into the muscles of her neck and shoulders._

_Suddenly all the images swirled together and there she was- flushed, sweating, panting, in his playroom with her hair braided. But she was on her knees, waiting for him like she had been when he'd entered Elena's dungeon when she was only sixteen. Only now he saw her face with no blindfold, no gag. It wasn't the face of sixteen year old Anastasia. But instead it was the matured face of Ana._

Christian jolted awake. He was in his bed. He glanced at the clock, realized he hadn't even been asleep for an hour. What had woken him? Not a nightmare. He wasn't panicked like he normally was following a nightmare. Though, his heart was racing. And… oh. He was hard. Rock hard. Pulsating. Fuck. He needed to get laid. But that wasn't happening tonight, and this particular erection wasn't willing to be ignored. Resting his head back on his pillow, he wrapped his hand around his length, tightening it, then slowly stroking it. It wasn't usual for him to wake up in the middle of the night in this state. Morning wood, sure. Not hard as granite and aching in the dead of night after very little sleep.

His strokes got faster. No need to prolong the inevitable. Not that this time would take long anyway. His hips jerked, his hand picking up speed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His eyes slid closed. His mind drifted. Then without warning, the dream came tumbling back to him. Legs. Flushed skin. Sweat. Red. A flogger. His playroom bed. A moan. Ana. On her knees.

With a deep, pained groan, Christian jerked his hand up and spilled his seed all over his abdomen. _**Fuck! **_

"Oh God," he groaned. "Shit. Fuck!"

It was like a cannon ball to the gut. He'd dreamt about her. He'd jerked off to thoughts of her. _No_, he thought immediately. He was about to come anyway. It was coincidental that he actually came at the exact moment that the dream resurfaced in his mind. He only came because he was already too far to stop. It wasn't the images of her that made him finish. He took in a deep breath, let it out. Twice. A third time. No. He was fine. This was just Flynn getting in his head.

He reached down next to his bed, grabbing the t-shirt he'd stripped off before climbing into bed, and used it to wipe himself clean. He tossed it back to the floor before lying back on the bed. He tugged his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. As soon as his lids slid shut, the visions from his dream assaulted him once again. He snapped his eyes open, then rubbed them roughly with the palms of his hands.

Fuck.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been an exhausting week at work. Brutal meetings, fuck ups left and right, firings of incompetent employees, all rounded out by an end-of-the-week three-day-trip to New York. It was all very 'a day in the life of' for him, but for some reason it was all grating on him worse this week.

_For some reason_. Pft. He knew **exactly** what reason that was. _Her_. Anastasia. And that fucking _dream_. It wouldn't leave his fucking head all fucking week. The images of her… they were fucking with him royally. Distracting him. Punishing him. He wanted them out of his head. He was sure they didn't belong there, and he was sure he was only obsessing about them now because he hadn't had the chance to see her since the dream occurred. If he could just see her, he would realize his mind was making more of this than there really was. If he could be in her presence, he would be able to confirm to himself that there was no attraction, that the dream was just born from circumstance—he'd spent significant time with her while going through a stretch of time where he was not having sex. Toss in Flynn trying to fuck with his head during their session and- Voila! Perfect recipe for a sex dream. It was nothing more than that. Unfortunately, Ana had said she couldn't see him tonight. They'd exchanged texts back and forth this afternoon before his flight left from New York, and when prompted, he'd told her how shitty his week had been. He'd hoped to see her. But it wasn't in the cards for the evening. He would find a way to fit himself into her schedule tomorrow, even if it killed him. He couldn't let these thoughts fester any longer than they already had.

As the elevator reached his penthouse, he tugged at the tie around his neck, loosening the knot and letting it hang carelessly form his neck. He walked through the foyer and was halfway on his way to drop his briefcase off in his office then go change clothes in his room when he noticed something was off. His home was always immaculate. And the streamlined, clean décor left little room for error. If something was out of place, it showed glaringly, because there wasn't much there to begin with. No knick-knacks, no pictures, no personal touches… nothing of his life. So when he saw the flash of color out of the corner of his eye, he stopped.

He reached for what he now recognized to be a jacket, resting on the stark while couch. Who the fuck did this belong to? He heard a soft noise come from the kitchen, assuming it was Gail preparing dinner. She should know the answer. He abandoned his briefcase on the couch without another thought, turning on heel and entering the kitchen with purpose.

But instead of Gail, he found Anastasia in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot while humming to herself quietly. She turned at the sound of footsteps, a broad smile crossing her face as she wiped her hands on an apron that was tired securely around her waist, How- what was she doing here?

She met him around the kitchen island, a beaming smile on her face. "Surprise!" she said excitedly. "You said you were having a stressful week, so I'm here to take your mind off of work. You and I are going to have a fun, relaxing night. No work. No stress. We've just going to decompress over dinner."

He grinned. An actual, full blown grin. "You made me dinner?"

"I did," she said, her eyes alight with excitement. "Now, don't be upset with Mrs. Jones. I told her I wanted to surprise you, so I asked her not to tell you."

Christian's eyes flicked to Taylor, who had made it up from parking the SUV and was now standing just inside the kitchen entryway, seemingly studying his boss for his true reaction. Whatever Christian showed, it must have been positive because Taylor's shoulders fell a half inch and his face went from ever so slightly apprehensive back to his usual impassive.

"Gail did call me. We decided together that it may be a surprise that you would like. I apologize if we overstepped, but Miss Steele was quite insistent that she really wanted to do this for you," Taylor added.

Ana beamed a quick smile at Taylor, thanking him for keeping mum, then looked at Christian expectantly. "So… good surprise? I already had this in the works when you started texting asking to see me tonight."

"Of course it's a good surprise," he confirmed. He dismissed Taylor with a nod, then took a seat at the breakfast bar while Ana resumed her spot at the stove. He watched her mix, taste, and season whatever she had going.

"I hope you like spaghetti," she said, turning back to glance at him quickly. "I know it doesn't sound very exciting, but I made everything from scratch."

"I'll happily eat whatever you put in front of me Ana," he said sincerely.

He watched her work, a comfortable silence between them as she began to plate the dishes. He'd never really understood what that term meant- a comfortable silence. He was used to silences. He utilized them, actually, quite often to his advantage in his day-to-day life. Silence from him at GEH most often induced great tension within whoever he was attempting to intimidate. He liked to let the pressure mount, forever giving him an upper hand in situations, which he would use to throw his counterpart off balance. Then he'd slice through the silence with verbally cutting lines, completely disarming everyone around him. It always worked like a charm.

The boardroom wasn't the only place he dealt silence like a tool. Silences in the playroom were also tools used to build anticipation, to build control before and during a season. They were anything but comfortable for his submissives.

Silences with his family were the worst. They were wrought with anguish, most prominently from his mother, silently begging him to communicate with them. But his family didn't push, and he didn't relent, and the circle of silence had been a painfully perpetuated one they'd lived in his whole life.

But this… this was a silence that acted like a balm over his frazzled mind after a long week of work and a frenzied business trip. He was in a better mood just knowing she was there, in his presence, even if they weren't speaking. The light background noise of tableware, pots and pans might as well have been calming oceanic music. It was all so domestic, and he had never thought anything related to that term would appeal to him. But it was very appealing here. He'd had women cook for him. All of his subs had cooked for him. Gail cooked for him. But it was all an act of duty. It was their obligation to do so, as subs and as his housekeeper. Ana was doing this out of the kindness of her heart, explicitly for him.

She set a prepared plate in front of him, flashing a quick smile at him before setting her own plate down and taking a seat next to him.

Flynn was wrong. This **was** a friendship. It was genuine and pleasant and he was eager for more.

He twirled his fork around in the pasta, taking a large bite and savoring the flavors. It was delicious, not that he'd expected anything less. It couldn't smell as good as it did and not taste good too. He looked up to see her eyeing him, awaiting a reaction, still not having touched her own plate.

"It's delicious, Ana. Seriously, thank you so much," he said, smiling at her. God, he'd smiled more in the last thirty minutes than he had all week.

He liked this. He really liked this… this particular feeling of contentment around another person was something he wasn't sure he'd ever known. Yes, he knew happiness and felt comfortable in other situations in his life where he interacted with people. He felt comfortable at work. He felt comfortable in his playroom. He was comfortable using control and intimidation in his everyday social situations. But being in her presence wasn't about control and intimidation, like it was in the boardroom, or with his subs. Those situations were so impersonal. He couldn't give two shits about the people he was interacting with, not really. He physically and financially cared for his subs, but not on any sort of _personal_ level. Certainly not emotionally, outside of their comfort level during an actual scene. How many women had he caressed with arnica cream… massaged, bathed? But none of those normally intimate acts were done out of anything other than duty. They were fueled by obligation, not because he actually _cared_.

The dinner proceeded with light conversation. Ana asked questions about his work, trying to further understand his career and the giant umbrella of things it encompassed. He used their open, receptive chat as a chance to learn more about her, asking about her time at school and what drove her to choose English Lit as her major. She spoke as passionately about her love for books as he did about his love for mergers and acquisitions. He made a mental note to show her his library later, thinking she would probably appreciate it more than anyone else who had ever seen it.

"I want to take you somewhere in the morning," he said, twirling a piece of pasta around his fork absently, glancing at her to see her reaction to him impulsive decision.

"Where?" she asked, pausing her movement so her glass of wine stopped halfway to her lips, intrigued.

"You'll find out when we get there," he said with a grin.

"Ugh. Why can't you just tell me?" she whined, setting the glass down without taking a sip.

"I will. Tomorrow," he said with a smirk. "It'll be early. We'll have to leave well before dawn."

She frowned. "What could we possibly be doing that early?"

"You'll find out tomorrow," he said, fake exasperation in his tone. "What, you're the only one who can surprise someone with something? Come on. Don't you trust me?" he asked, suddenly concerned that maybe she didn't. Why should she?

"Of course," she said immediately, instantly squashing his self-deprecating thoughts. "I can't wait."

When their plates were cleared, Ana rose to rinse them and place them in the dish washer. Christian offered to help, but after turning dials and staring at the machine for a good two minutes, Ana finally stepped in and got it working in seconds. She crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter and raising her eyebrows at him, smirking in a gesture of playful superiority. He just shook his head at her, mirroring her body language as she leaned against the countertop across from her.

"Thank you again for dinner, Ana. It was the perfect way to end a less than pleasant week."

Her smile changed from teasing to genuine. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." They looked at each other for a moment before her eyes darted to the clock hanging on the wall above the stove. "It's getting pretty late. I should probably head home," she said with a contented sigh, dropping her arms to her sides in resignation to the approaching end of their evening.

"Yes. You need to get some sleep for the early morning," he agreed, taking the first steps toward the living room to retrieve her jacket.

"Right," she said, a slightly sour look on her face as she imagined the time. He helped her slip on her jacket, then walked side by side with him through the foyer toward the elevator. "This surprise better be worth me getting up so early on a Saturday," she added a wink so he was sure she was teasing.

"It will be. Until tomorrow," he said, watching her until the elevator doors closed and she was no longer visible.

* * *

When she opened the door to her apartment after his soft round of knocking, he couldn't help the smile that immediately popped up on his face at the sight of her. She stood in front of him, her eyes barely open, her hair slightly mussed from sleep, wearing jeans, a WSU sweatshirt and a pair on Converse.

"Is this okay to wear?" her quiet, sleep laden voice asked. "I literally rolled out of bed five minutes ago."

"Yes, that's fine. Casual is fine," he confirmed, waving a hand absently at himself. He was wearing black jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and Converse as well. He had a sweater in the car, but he'd removed it when he realized it was warmer out than he'd been expecting for the early hour. He'd need it once they got up in the air, however. "Let's go. I have tea and a chocolate croissant waiting for you in the car."

The drive was mostly quiet. Soft music playing over the radio as Ana barely picked at her breakfast and sipped lightly at her tea. It took about an hour to get to their destination, which gave them about a half hour to get settled, go over the safety procedures, and get in the air so they could chase the dawn.

Soaring was one of the things Christian found true happiness in doing. He loved his helicopter, Charlie Tango. He loved his boat, The Grace. And he loved to go soaring.

Ana waited patiently, her eyes scanning the signs as they made the turnoff into the airfield. She shot Christian a confused look, to which he responded with only a wink and a grin. She shook her head at him, but didn't push.

After parking the car, Christian came around to her door, taking her hand to help her out of the low-riding car he'd opted to drive this morning. Then, with fingers still entwined, he tugged her toward a man who appeared to be waiting for them up ahead.

"Mr. Grey," the man greeted, when they were within ear shot. "Pleasure to see you again, sir."

"Marcus," he nodded in return, releasing Ana's hand to shake that of his tow-pilot for the morning. Ana waited patiently beside them while they discussed the need-to-knows about the weather conditions for the flight this morning.

"I'll just go grab some ballast while you guys get suited up," he said, motioning to the parachutes resting on a tabletop to the left.

Christian turned to Ana, seeing an unreadable look on her face. "Do you know what we're doing yet?" he asked. She slowly shook her head no, looking around like the answer might be written on a sign somewhere, spelling it out for her. "We're going soaring. Gliding, as you may have heard it referred to in the past."

Her eyes bugged out slightly and he jaw dropped. "You mean, the thing where a guy pulls the skinny plane behind his plane and then let's you go?" she squeaked. Christian nodded, apprehensive. "Are we taking turns? Marcus will fly us one at a time? There's only two seats right?"

Christian shook his head. "No. Marcus is our tow pilot. He will be flying the plane that is pulling our glider. **I **will be piloting the glider in which you and I soar."

"You?" she asked, astonished. "You know how to do that?"

He nodded. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut. She did not seem the least bit excited about this. She seemed apprehensive, nervous. He was sure she wouldn't trust him to safely pilot them. "Yes. I've done it for years."

An instant later, a huge grin overtook her face. "Wow, that's amazing. You really know how to do this?"

He let a smile break, instantly relieved that she wasn't as worried as he thought she was. "Of course. Do you think I would risk your life and mine if I wasn't sure I could bring you back down safely?"

"No," she said with a smirk, "I don't believe you would." She turned away slightly, looking at the open space with a whole new excitement. "Okay, so what do we have to do to get up there? I can't wait!"

He laughed, shaking his head at her childlike excitement. "Well, first, put your hair up. Then we need to put on our parachutes," he said, motioning to where they sat as she diligently secured her hair with the tie from her wrist. "Come, I'll help you on with yours. They're very specific in how they fasten in order to be used properly."

He crouched down in front of her, holding the straps of the harness apart to make it easier for her to step into. "It has to be on just right for it to work properly. In the event that you would need to deploy the chute you don't want it to yank wrong because it was put on improperly. It's like putting a baby in a car seat properly. It won't do its job effectively unless you have the straps done correctly. So just step in here and I'll take care of the rest," he said. He felt her hand land on his shoulder, her fingers wrapping around the curve so her fingertips were lightly brushing the top of his back. His jaw clenched down hard, and with a quick jerk, he stood, yanking the harness up her legs with enough force to cause her to jerk back, her hand flying from his shoulder to his bicep. "Sorry," he muttered, not looking her directly in the eye but seeing in his peripherals her confused glance at his unnecessary roughness.

Her hand left his bicep as he held out the straps for her to put her arms through. The act of methodically strapping her into the harness was doing wonders for his anxiety following the barely-there-touch of his back. It was centering him, adjusting the straps so they lay just so. He felt his control returning and his temperament neutralizing. His fingers deftly smoothed out the harness so the straps were all lying flat. He let the fabric run through his index finger and thumb, straightening out all the twists, around her shoulders between her shoulder blades, across her rib cage, down the small of her back. He felt her eyes on him as he meticulously straightened and adjusted all of the straps, only pausing for her approval when he came to the ones hitched under the cheeks of her ass and around her hips to between her thighs. She just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Do what you gotta do to keep me safe."

"Always, Anastasia," he said, running his fingers down and around the circumference of her thighs. Once all the straps were laid out properly, he tightened them all at the necessary junctions. Finally he stood back up to his full height, looking down on her. "All set."

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

"My pleasure. Just let me get mine on, and we'll be ready to get up in the air." She nodded, paying no attention to him as he secured his own harness with the same attention to detail as which he'd done hers. Her focus was on the glider waiting for them. Once done, he saddled up next to her, reaching for her hand again. "Come, Ana. Let's chase the dawn together."

She grinned, a full, wide, excited grin, taking quick steps next to him in her excitement. After running through a few more things with Marcus, Christian assisted Ana into the front seat of the glider.

"I sit in the front?" she asked.

"Yes. The pilot sits in the back," he confirmed.

He watched her fingertips grip the edge of her seat as she settled down into it. "I just need to strap you into the seat now," he said, slipping the harness belt over her head.

"Quite deft with all of this 'harnessing', aren't you, Christian?" she said, a playful smirk on her face. He grinned back.

"Oh you have jokes, do you?" he asked, his voice as teasing as hers has been. "Just remember, for the next 25 minutes, your life is solely in _my_ hands, Miss Steele."

"I know," she said, a sincerely smile on her face now. "And I trust you with it implicitly."

His playful smile faltered. It had to be true, he knew. She wouldn't be willing to do this if she didn't trust him to keep them both safe. But something about hearing the words out loud… it took him aback. But the smile returned a moment later. He was thrilled she trusted him so much.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes!" she said eagerly.

Marcus pulled them up, and Christian took a few moments to study Ana's reflection in the window of the cockpit before his full focus had to be on solely piloting the plane. She hand a smile plastered on her face, her eyes wide as she took in the scenery below them.

"This is beautiful, Christian!" she yelled, knocking his focus from her reflection to the world around them.

"I couldn't agree more, Ana," he laughed along with her, totally drawn into her pure enthusiasm. He'd done this often enough, and always appreciated the experience, but it was so different experiencing it with someone who never had. With anyone, really. He'd done tandem flights with experienced pilots while learning how to master the skill, but after he'd been given his license, he'd only ever done solo flights. He'd never even taken Elliot or Mia. It was always just him. But being here, now, with her… it was like experiencing it on a whole new level.

He watched her as much as he could while giving most of his attention to piloting the glider. She focused solely on the sights, squealing with delight when he steered them so they were upside down. He chuckled as her hands splayed out across the glass above them as they began to turn, as if she was afraid of falling out. She laughed. God, she laughed so joyfully and it was mesmerizing.

After landing, they were both grinning like fools- her at the experience, him at her. He assisted her out of the glider, undoing her harness and holding her hand while he helped her up and out onto solid ground. Quickly they removed their parachutes before making their way back toward his car. Marcus and the other crew members would take care of everything from here.

Walking a few steps in front of him, Ana laughed, still unable to get over the thrill, the pure exhilaration of it all. She was radiant, glowing in pure happiness. Christian was soaking in her demeanor, letting it sweep him up and pull him into her blissful bubble.

Suddenly she came to a stop. His slightly slow reaction to her sudden stop had him halting right before running into her. She turned on her heel and looked him in the eye. "I still can't believe this was real. We really did that!"

"I just wanted to return the favor for your surprise dinner. Did I do well?" he asked,

"All I did was make you dinner! This… this is… It was amazing. More than amazing! God, Christian, this was an experience of a lifetime! Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I'll never forget it." Before he could register what was happening, her hands were on his biceps and she was pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Before he could react, positively or negatively, she pulled away, turning back around to continue their trek to his car, giving a verbal rundown of the exciting experience again. He watched her walk, feeling completely confused by her action. It shouldn't have confused him. It was innocent enough. Quick. Friendly. No different than the one Elliot, her best friend's boyfriend, has placed on her own cheek when they ran into him at dinner at Mile High last week.

But still. Kisses were one thing he rarely participated in, so it threw him for a loop. Hell, it was a rare occasion for him to kiss his submissives, and he actively had **sex** with them. A kiss was something he gave as a reward on the rarest occasion when a sub went exceptionally far to please him. So it was just… different. He'd done a myriad of sexually deviant things in his life, and this was something so innocent, and it was just so very new to him.

_Are you attracted to her? _He heard Flynn's voice echoing in his brain.

He shook it off, taking long strides to catch up to her on the way to his car. He watched her tug the hair tie out of her hair, her chestnut hair falling in a poofed out mess around her shoulders. He watched her reach for the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up and over her head before placing it in the crook of her elbow. Her hands tugged at her hair, flattening it down into until it was tamed and draped effortlessly across her back, the tips reaching her shoulder blades. She was in black skinny jeans that hugged her hips just right, and a silky tank top caressed her skin softly with each shift of her torso as she walked.

Okay, yes, he could admit that she had a decent body. Okay, better than decent. If she were anyone else, he'd say her body was a knockout. But lots of women had nice bodies. That didn't mean he was attracted to all of them. They approached his car and she turned to face him as she waited next to the locked passenger side door. His eyes scanned her face.

Okay yeah, she was more than a great body. Some women had great bodies but were what Elliot called 'butter-faces'—everything is hot, _but her face_. Anastasia certainly could not be placed in that category. Nothing on her face was harsh, the lines were all soft and feminine. She had a delicate jaw, beautifully rounded cheekbones, a petite nose, perfectly manicured eyebrows… Her lips were the perfect shade of dark pink, set in a little bow on her face like a gift from God himself, the bottom lip enticingly more plump than the top in a way that he'd historically been drawn to kiss, tug, and bite, on the rare occasions that he did such things. But there was one aspect of her face that was beyond remarkable in his opinion. Her eyes. They were the coup de grace. Wide and bright- a color he didn't know existed in nature that shifted with her moods; deep like the sky just after dusk when she was upset, and as bright as the ocean glittering in the sun when she was happy. Mesmerizing was the only way to describe them.

So yeah, Ana was attractive. But that didn't mean he was attracted _to her_.

His eyes were still scouring her face when he realized her lips were moving. He took in her whole expression, seeing a questioning look in her eyes. He was torn from his own thoughts, realizing suddenly that he'd just been standing there, staring at her face while she was waiting for him to open the car door. He blushed, something he very, very rarely did, pulling the key fob out of his pocket and unlocking the doors.

"You okay?" she asked, as soon as he sat down in the driver's seat beside her.

"Yes," he said, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space.

"You sure? You were all laughing and happy, then you got all quiet and serious on me. And you were staring at me like… I don't know. Did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all," he said, attempting to give her a smile. He couldn't tell her what he was thinking about. Not without delving into a whole slew of things. "Just coming down from the adrenaline rush, that's all."

She nodded, her slight frown disappearing as she seemed to accept his answer. "I'm hungry. Can we stop for breakfast?" she asked.

That brought the smile right back to his face. He was more than happy to feed her.

* * *

They sat at a small table in the middle of the café awaiting their food to arrive from the kitchen. Taylor was waiting outside in the car, as he had been throughout their entire morning excursion. Normally, Christian didn't have a problem with Taylor driving him to whatever it was he was doing for the day. In fact, he welcomed it. It allowed Taylor to perform his job more capably if they were together. But this morning, he'd wanted it to be just him and Ana. He was out of his element with this whole thing and he didn't want anyone, even Taylor, being privy to his interactions with her.

To be honest, he was slightly self-conscious. If he said something, did something stupid, he didn't want it to be under the watchful eye of his head of security. And he knew it was asinine to be uncomfortable with Taylor witnessing his attempts to navigate a blooming friendship. Taylor, of all people, knew things about him—had seen him do things no one else had. Christian was completely honest with Taylor about everything in his life. He had to be, in order to ensure Taylor could properly protect him. Taylor was the only person who really had all access to everything Christian Grey. There were no secrets. But a side effect of Taylor's unfettered access to his life had, unfortunately, led to times when he'd witnessed unnecessary aspects of Christian's life- like the multiple times he'd walked in on Christian in more compromising positions than Christian cared to admit. Truthfully, he personally didn't cared much either way. It was his apartment, after all. He shouldn't have to confine his personal affairs to one room just on the off chance a staff member would walk in and witness something he would otherwise rather keep private.

But this thing with Ana, he was protective of it. It was private- _personal_. And he wanted it for himself, right now, while he figured out this whole friendship thing. So he'd asked Taylor to keep a low profile and give them some space. Ana knew about Taylor, and understood why Christian needed the 24/7 security, but, if even for only one day, Christian wanted to feel like he was normal. Not a billionaire CEO running his own universe. Not a BDSM Dominant exerting his will over his submissive. Just a normal guy, spending time with a friend.

_A friend_. He was starting to annoy himself. Friendship. The concept was seriously taking over his brain. It was pathetic that he was obsessing about it the way he was. But it was so new. It was so foreign. A friend. He had a friend.

At least he thought he had a friend. He was pretty sure friendship was a two way street. She had to consider him_ her_ friend in order for it to be official. She seemed to enjoy spending time with him. All the signs pointed to it being mutual. Hell, she'd been the one to suggest friendship in the beginning as they sat in a café not too different than the one in which they were currently sitting. Still, she could feel differently than he did. He could just be a simple acquaintance to her. He hoped that wasn't the case.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Ana smiled, giving him her full attention.

"What do you consider us?" he asked, smiling at the server as she came to the table with their plates, thanking her politely.

"What do you mean?" Ana asked, also thanking the server before Christian dismissed her.

"Us. This," he said, motioning back and forth between them. "If someone walked in right now and you had to introduce me, how would you label me?"

"How would _you_ label _me_?" she asked, turning the question back to him with eyebrows raised.

"A friend," he said confidently. "I would label us friends."

"I thought you didn't do friends," she said teasingly.

"I didn't, before you," he said, practically bleeding sincerity with a touch of vulnerability. He wanted this. But he had to be sure she saw him how he saw her.

"Me too," she said, with a nonchalant nod.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, like it was no big deal. "I like spending my free time with you. I have fun with you. I respect you, I trust you. You've been very open and honest with me, which is an important quality to me in a friend. You drive me a little crazy sometimes, but at the end of the day, if I needed you, I believe you'd be there for me. If that's not friendship, I don't know what it," she said with a shrug before digging into her breakfast.

He grinned.

He had a friend.


	12. Chapter 12

"My car broke down, and I know you're probably crazy busy, but can you possibly… I don't know… spare Taylor something just to give me a ride home? I already tried Kate and she's on an assignment for the paper."

Christian looked at the clock. He had a phone conference in ten minutes, and a meeting in forty-five. His onsite GEH security staff was more than capable of holding down the fort while he sent Taylor out to give Ana a ride, but he didn't like the idea of it. It just wasn't even an option in his mind. "I've got a window of free time. I'll be there soon," he said, quickly disconnecting the call with her to contact Andrea. "Andrea, push my conference call through to my cell and push my meeting back an hour. Something came up and I have to leave the office for an hour or so."

Twenty minutes later, Taylor was pulling up in front of Seattle Independent Publishing, behind a horrible excuse for a car against which Ana was leaning. She was unaware of their arrival as she directed her attention to her phone.

Christian opened his door, looking at her car in disgust. "This is what you've been driving? How did I not know you owned a deathtrap for a car? You need a new one," he said, shaking his head. "This one isn't safe."

Ana looked up, dropping her phone into her purse, ignoring his ranting as he stepped up next to her. She ran her hand over the dented front passenger wheel well fondly. "She's a little rough around the edges, but I love her. She's seen me through so much."

"She?" he asked incredulously.

"Wanda," she offered.

"Well _she_ is garbage, Anastasia," he deadpanned. "_She_ belongs in a junkyard."

"I'll have you know Wanda was there for me when no one else was. I bought her with the very little money I could afford to spare that you gave me for school. I've had her since the day I left home. Hell, I even lived in her for about a week before I moved in with Kate at WSU. She's very sentimental to me. I will not just abandon her. She just needs some TLC, as soon as I can afford to give it to her."

Christian narrowed his eyes at her. Who got sentimental over a shitty car? Well, no matter, if Ana wanted to keep it, he could make that happen. But _Wanda_ needed more than a simple tune-up. "I'll have it towed to a garage owned by someone I trust. He'll fix it up properly."

"Okay, thanks," Ana said, "I know shit about car repairs. I don't have much to spend on it though, so tell him no add-ons. No cabin-filter-whatever changes, no trans-something-fluid flushes. Just fix what's broken. I just need her running."

Christian rolled her eyes when she wasn't looking. Yeah fucking right. "Sure," he said. By the time she got it back, there would be nothing she could do about it anyway. The upgrades would already be made. "I can lend you a car in the meantime."

"Yeah right, I don't want to risk denting one of your many Audi's. I'll make do with public transit."

"Like hell you will, Ana. Please don't argue with me on this. If you're worried about it that much, I can hire you a driver."

"A driver! No! No way, Christian!"

"Then just borrow the car. You have insurance. Not that I couldn't afford to fix any hypothetical damage even if you didn't." Hell, he'd made enough money in the time it took to arrive here from his office to just buy a new one.

"That's not the point, Christian. You work hard for your money. I don't want you wasting it on me."

"My peace of mind, knowing you've made it to and from your destinations safely, by far outweighs the cost of wear and tear on one of my spare cars."

"Yeah, but—"

"Ana?" A voice sounded from behind him, pulling both of their attention away. A man with red hair pulled back into a pony tail, dark blue eyes and both of his ears pierced was the source of the interruption. He was exiting the SIP office, looking at Ana with what Christian sensed immediately as mock concern. He shot a cold glance at Christian for just a moment before his attention was placed fully back on Ana. "What's wrong honey? I thought you left an hour ago." Christian stiffened at this man's use of 'honey' toward her. Who was this guy?

"Jack," Ana said with an insincere smile. "Hi. Yes. I had some car trouble, so I had to wait for my friend Christian to come and give me a ride," she said, motioning toward where Christian stood. "Christian, this is my boss, Jack Hyde. Jack, my friend Christian Grey."

"Just friend?" Jack asked, a teasing, sleazy smirk on his lips as he stepped closer to Ana.

A tight smile formed on her face as she took a slight step back from him with a nod. Christian felt himself losing his patience. How fucking unprofessional was this guy? Christian would never in a million years talk to one of his employees like this. The idea of calling Andrea _honey_ was laughable.

"You should have come back in and let me know, sweetie. I know we live near each other. I will happily give you a ride," the inflection of his voice changed as he said the last line, his eyes darkening with lust as his eyes trailed slowly down her body, then back up.

Christian bristled immediately, stepping closer to Ana, causing Jack to glare at him. "Yes, well, Anastasia chose to call me, and I have it from here, Mr. Hyde. Your offer is redundant and therefore not at all necessary."

"Mm," Jack hummed in agreement. "I can see that. Well, if you need a ride in the morning, or for as long as you need until your car is fixed, I am happy to oblige."

"Again," Christian said, cutting off Ana before she could speak, "Not necessary. I will be taking care of Ana's needs."

Jack gave Christian another slanted glare. "I was talking to Ana, Mr. Grey."

"Thanks for the offer, Jack," Ana said, wanting to squash this obviously building tension. "But Christian has offered to lend me one of his spare cars, so it won't be necessary."

"Okay," he said, holding up his hands in fake acquiesces. "As long as you have a ride, that's all that matters. I'll see you bright and early in the morning, okay honey?"

Ana opened her mouth to speak but Christian cut her off yet again, his voice tense, being just held back to a reasonable volume. "Honey, sweetie, honey… Do you talk down to all employees like that, Mr. Hyde? Just subordinates? Or just the female ones? Or perhaps just Anastasia?"

"I'm not talking down to anyone, Grey," Jack spat. "They're just friendly terms."

"And very inappropriate for the workplace. If you want your employees to respect you, I highly recommend you start by showing them respect as well."

Jack just glared at him, not even attempting to argue back. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ana," he huffed, pulling his keys from his pocket and getting in a car parked on the street behind Christian's Audi.

"Normally I would have chastised you for that display of machismo with my _boss_," she said pointedly, "but I'm actually very grateful you intervened. So thank you."

Christian smirked, both at her threat of chastisement (because, come on, the only other person in this world who could threaten chastisement and get away with it was Dr. Grace Grey) and her gratitude immediately following the threat. "Is he always like that?" Christian asked in concern, looking up in time to see Hyde drive by them on the street, shooting Christian a look that could kill, following quickly by a badly hidden leer at Ana's backside.

"Pretty much. Mr. Hyde is… weird. He was nice enough the first day. But like, too nice. _Overly_ friendly. I thought I was just imagining it at first. The place is pretty casual so I just chalked it up to him being a laid back guy, but now he's starting to creep me out a little bit."

"Does he make you feel unsafe?" Christian asked, his demeanor stern and calculating. He would ruin the guy in one swift phone call if he was making Ana question her well-being at work.

She gave a half shrug. "I wouldn't necessarily say unsafe. But he gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Christian rolled his eyes over to her, a slight uptick playing at the very corner of his lip. "The _heebie-jeebies_, Anastasia?"

She smirked. "Yes, Christian. The heebie-jeebies."

"Well," he said with a sigh, absently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Promise me you'll let me know if he says or does anything inappropriate again. I can easily take care of him, Ana. You shouldn't have to deal with anything like that in the workplace."

Ana just nodded, walking with Christian over to his car where Taylor waited for them. He waved Taylor off from his position at the door, instead opening her door for her himself, helping her climb in, then shutting it.

His voice dropped low as he stopped Taylor rounding the back of the car. "Have Mr. Walker come tow Ana's car to his shop. Tell him I want her car fully upgraded. Top of the line, brand new parts. Whatever isn't in pristine condition, replace it. I don't care if that means everything but the frame, which I want free of dents and repainted to match the exact color it is now. Have him replace the disgusting upholstery. New tires. The works. And tell him I want it done in a month."

"Sir," Taylor nodded.

"Oh, and Taylor," he said, his hand on rear driver's side door handle, "Tell Welch I want a complete background check on Jack Hyde on my desk by the morning."

* * *

"Christian…?" Elliot said, confused, as stood in the doorway of Kate and Ana's apartment. Christian cringed internally, but didn't let it show on the exterior. He wasn't expecting to run into his brother. Of course, he knew it was always a possibility, given the amount of time he'd been spending with Ana, and the fact that Ana was roommates with Elliot's girlfriend. But for the most part, he saw Ana at Escala, or out in public, not at her place, so he didn't often consider Elliot being around.

"Elliot," he nodded. "Is Ana here?" He could practically see question marks in the pupils of his brother's eyes. It was pretty common knowledge that Christian was spending time with Ana now. Kate knew, so of course Elliot knew, but it was so much more than that. Tabloids were running at least a story a day about the pair, questioning whether or not they were dating, engaged, married or pregnant with triplets. Christian had been firm with his PR that no statements were to be made. He would not indulge the press on this. Give them an inch, they take a mile. He would not be willingly giving up any of inches.

But the attention made his family wonder. They didn't ask- they knew better. If Christian divulged, they would eat it up like expensive caviar, but they wouldn't _ask_. It was just the nature of their relationship.

So, true to that, Elliot kept his questions to himself and nodded, pushing the door open further and stepping back to allow his brother room to enter the apartment. "Yeah. She's in Kate's room helping her get ready. Kate and I are going out to dinner."

"Ana's not joining you?" he asked.

"Not tonight," Elliot said.

Christian nodded, intending to end the conversation at this point and go find her. But Elliot stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Christian," he said, his voice pensive, "I—," he stuttered. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you and Ana, but…" he shook his head. This was new. Elliot usually didn't pry, but when he did have something to say, he also usually didn't have a problem just saying it. So to see him like this made Christian give pause. "Ana is a good person," he said, looking his brother in the eye.

"I know," Christian agreed.

"What I mean is, she's really_ good_. She's all heart. She's kind, and sweet, and so… genuine. If you- You don't talk about her to us, but _she_ talks about _you_ to us, and she trusts you. I don't know what your intentions are with her, because you and I both know you don't do relationships of any sort, but I feel like I should just warn you... If you hurt her, you and I are going to have a problem. She's not only important to Kate, who I love, but she's important to me too. So I hope whatever you're doing with her isn't some… game." Elliot let out a breath and winced, like he was waiting to incur his brother's wrath for daring to speak to him in such a way.

"No games, Elliot," Christian said, holding his hands up in defense, cool, calm, and as open as his brother had probably ever seen him. "I know this is new territory for me. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. She means a great deal to me, actually."

Elliot's mouth popped wide open and his eyebrows were so high on his forehead that it was comical. "Are you in love with her?" he asked, spitting the words out like they were a foreign language.

"No," Christian dismissed. "But we _are_ friends."

"I thought you didn't need friends," Elliot spat, the words stinging them both. They were the exact words Christian had spat at his brother nearly a decade prior. Elliot was leaving for college and made a last ditch effort to reach out to his little brother who had always been so closed off from the world, the little brother who was fighting and drinking and getting kicked out of school after school after school. Elliot had told him that he loved him, and that he would do anything for him, and that even though he was going away to school, he would drop everything if Christian ever needed him. In an effort to reach him, he told his little brother how he'd always wished they had been closer, and that it was never too late for them to be friends. He'd tried to hug him. Christian had pushed him off, told him 'I don't need friends', and turned on heel and walked away from him. Christian had always felt that was the pivotal point in their relationship when Elliot had truly given up on him. Things were never the same after that. His brother, who was jovial and openly loving to everyone else, even strangers, always seemed to frost a bit when he interacted directly with Christian after that day. There were times here and there where he was the same old Elliot, especially when other people were around to witness it, but Christian knew there was a rift in their relationship ever since that day. And over the years, deep down, Christian had regretted his actions toward someone who was just trying to help, but his pride had always kept him from making the apology he knew Elliot deserved.

"Even I can be wrong sometimes," Christian offered, finding it suddenly possible to set aside his own pride in exchange for giving even a small peace offering to his deserving brother. Elliot's jaw dropped. It was clear from his reaction he never would have expected his brother to say those words aloud. Encouraged by his brother's reaction, Christian dug deeper, wanting to offer his brother even more of himself as well as the long overdue apology he'd deserved that he'd never gotten. "I was wrong that day. I've always felt that I didn't deserve to have a family as good as the one I got. The Greys have always been too good for me. I never felt worthy of all of you. I was, have always been, angry at circumstances in my life, and taken it out on the people who least deserved it. I'm sorry, Lelliot."

For a moment, Christian thought his brother was angry. His jaw clenched down so tightly that the tendons in Elliot's neck stuck out. It wasn't until he noticed the glossiness of his brother's eyes that Christian realized his brother wasn't angry, he was holding back tears. Christian cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking down so as not to stare and make the situation more uncomfortable for either of them.

Without warning he found himself in Elliot's tight but strategically placed embrace. His arms were conspicuously avoiding Christian's no-go areas. The hug was brief, but effective, saying things that neither could manage to verbalize in the moment.

They pulled apart just as they heard the girls coming down the hall. Kate stepped into the living room first, Elliot immediately going to her and sweeping her up into his arms and planting a kiss square on her lips. "Katie you look beautiful," he said, a silly grin on his face, that, even though she did look beautiful, had nothing to do with Kate.

"Thanks, babe," she grinned back at his obvious good mood. Christian looked over to see Ana smiling fondly at the couple before her eyes caught his. She gave him a small smile in lieu of staying hi, which he returned.

"Do you guys want to join us for dinner?" Elliot asked cheerfully, wrapping his arm around Kate's shoulders. Kate's neck snapped back and she shot him a look, her fingers discretely, but not discretely enough, pinching his arm. She was clearly dressed for and expecting a romantic dinner for two. "Ow. Never mind. Offer revoked," Elliot said, pulling his arm from her and rubbing the spot she'd pinched him. Ana grinned at her friend who had the decency to blush after so obviously hating the idea of company.

"It's fine," Christian said, "Maybe you and I can grab lunch tomorrow. Or a Mariner's game. They're in town against the Blue Jays."

Elliot clenched his jaw again, shaking it away quickly as he cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, that sounds good."

Kate looked at him in shocked confusion for a moment, then looked to Christian, her look changing to a beaming smile. They said their goodbyes, shuffling out of the apartment all smiles.

Christian's eyes found Ana's again as she watched the scene with interest. "What was that about?"

He shrugged. "Just took care of some long overdue business."

She looked at him skeptically before shrugging it off. "Beer?"

"Sure," he nodded, taking off his coat and following her into the kitchen.

* * *

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Christian said. Those words used to make him immediately tense. He didn't like to be asked questions. But it was getting easier and easier to open up to Ana and trust her to be open-minded to his answers. It was almost liberating to be able to talk to someone about his life without fear of judgement.

"Your submissives… how does that work? The whole 'contract' thing?"

He shrugged. "I have a standard contract for all my subs. It's pretty routine, really. It lists all the things I will provide as a Dom, including care, security, financial benefits. It lists the expectations as far as availability and termination agreements. It has rules I expected to be followed, and spells out my hard and soft limits. All those things are the same for every sub. The only differences are their personal limits." He wanted to stick to just the facts to answer any questions she asked. This topic had the potential to get very heavy, very fast. He didn't mind answering her questions about all of this, because if anyone in the world had a right to understand it all, it was her. But he didn't want it to bring her down a painful path either.

"And you use it every time?"

"Yes. No exceptions. I won't even touch a woman without a signed contract."

She nodded slowly. "I read about some of that stuff online when I was researching BDSM. How everything is supposed to be spelled out for both parties involved. I think that was part of what confused me, because I didn't have anything spelled out for me beforehand, really. Our situation was very different than how you do things now," she stated like fact. And it was. Their interaction was the one and only time he'd ever gone blindly into a situation with a submissive. The ramifications of him not handling the process himself had been dire. It was a lesson learned, maybe his hardest learned lesson to date, considering the cost. He would never put himself or another woman—_teenager_\- at risk by allowing a third party to mediate the arrangement.

"No, with you I had no control over the whole process of acquiring a sub. But I learned my lesson in trusting Elena, or anyone else for that matter, with such matters requiring both discretion and detail. I came up with the very strict plan for how I handle my arrangements with submissives immediately after you. I refused to be blindsided again. It's for my safety as well as my subs that there is no way there can be any miscommunication about either her or my position on any aspect of the arrangement. I should never have gone into that room without knowing exactly what you were expecting, and I should never have allowed you to sub for me without having you know exactly what I was expecting. Dom/sub relationships are built on trust, and I didn't give you any reason to trust me." She sent him a soft smile, her eyes unreadable as she just looked at him for a few moments. If he had to guess, he'd say she almost looked… appreciative? For what? Learning his lesson? Making sure he didn't do it to someone else?

"You mentioned financial benefits. What kind of financial benefits do you routinely offer? I mean, obviously that was why I got involved with Elena, because she abstractly promised I could get what I needed to go to school. But nothing was spelled out. I had no idea if I was going to be thrown hundred dollar bills here and there or what. She just told me to trust her, and like the naïve little girl I was, I did. Even though, looking back, that seemed to be the one thing she did tell the truth about,"

"I provide quite a bit for my subs. I have a lot of rules, and I provide the finances necessary to follow said rules."

"Like what? What rules?"

"There's quite a few," he said with a small smirk, knowing he was pretty demanding in that regard. "I am strict on rules for safety, so, for example, I provide a car with a high safety rating. I have rules for personal appearance as well as personal hygiene, so I pay for clothes and for salon visits. I pay for a personal trainer to keep up with rules on fitness. Things like that." He looked her in the eye, his eyes softening. "I also make it a point to ease their more personal financial burdens. It's not in the contracts, but I value education and I appreciate when one of my submissives strives for success in that regard. If they have student loans, I pay them. If they've wanted to attend college but cannot afford it, I offer to pay, even when the contract is terminated. Something in my past must have given me a soft spot for someone trying to better themselves without the financial capability to do so." The look in her eyes was again indecipherable to him. But she was clearly affected. It made his chest ache.

"And you say you're heartless," she smiled, knowing better than to play up his revelation. He'd made it clear in the past that he didn't take praise well. So much for keeping this conversation unemotional.

"Even the Grinch had a heart," he joked with a wink in an attempt to not lose the light mood. It worked.

"Are you comparing yourself to the Grinch?" she squeaked out with a laugh. "Oh my God, that's so perfect. You are the real life Grinch!" she said playfully.

"It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight," Christian said, toeing off his shoes one by one and letting them fall to the floor next to the couch. "It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right," he said, craning his neck back and forth slightly. "But I think that the most likely reason of all, may have been that his heart was two sizes too small," he said, making his fingers into the shape of a tiny little heart and placing them over the center of his chest.

"Are you _joking around_?" Ana asked, feigning shock as he quoted the classic book to her verbatim, before she broke out into a fit of giggles. He shrugged casually, a smile playing on his lips. As soon as she managed to reel in her laughter, her eyes lit up as she said, "And you actually know the words to The Grinch! Christian Grey, I never knew! You constantly find ways to surprise me!"

She was right, he didn't joke around. He found himself doing so many things out of his norm when he was with her. And liking it. Relaxing, talking, joking around, making her smile- _laugh_. Had he ever made anyone _laugh_? Not on purpose. But it was nice.

"But seriously," she said, "It's awesome that you help with the financial burden of school for your subs. The rest of it, no thanks. But the school thing is quite noble of you."

"What's wrong with the rest of the stuff?" he asked, interested in her take on it. She had such an exclusive outlook on this. To say she was a previous participant in BDSM seemed extreme. Technically, yes, she had been, but not in the context anyone _should_ be, not in the way BDSM should be experienced. So in some ways, she was just as oblivious as any other person on the street who hadn't ever partaken in the lifestyle. But she also had a very up close and person look into it that left her more knowledgeable than most. And while her experience could easily have made her wary of the whole thing, she seemed unaffected by it, open minded even though her experience with it had been negative. She seemed to be able to respect it without judging those involved. Her view was very unique.

She looked at him incredulously. "The **rules**. That's the stuff I just don't understand," she said, leaning forward. "The sexual aspects, I get. As long as the ideas of pain and being submissive appeal to someone, I am able to comprehend why someone could enjoy that stuff. But once the orgasms wane, what I don't understand is why anyone would want to give up all of their freedom and have to answer to someone else about every aspect of their lives. The day I let a guy I'm fucking tell me what to eat…" she trailed off.

He smiled. "I agree, you aren't exactly the submissive type. Maybe you should be a Domme." He'd meant is as a joke, but deep in his gut he felt a ping of revulsion at the thought. Even though he now knew his personal interactions with his one and only former Domme were not typical of the lifestyle, his stomach still roiled whenever the thought of any Domme crept into his mind. The view of sweet, innocent Ana wielding a cane over a naked man on his knees came unbidden into his mind.

She laughed, shaking her head rapidly back and forth, pulling his mind away from his unpleasant thoughts. "No! Oh my god no! I'd be constantly asking if the guy was okay and apologizing," she laughed again. "No, that's not for me. I like being an equal in the bedroom. I like the variety of bending over and taking it hard, knowing I have the option to be riding him like a bronco minutes later."

"Christ, Ana! Riding him like a bronco?" he scowled at her out of character vulgarity. Not that he was offended by it or anything, it just took him by surprise to hear her say something like that when she was such a… _good_ _girl_. She just smirked. "Can I ask you something now?"

"Shoot," she said, turning to give him her full attention.

"I've always wondered… that night- why didn't you safeword? I mean, your hand-," he said, clenching his own fists, thinking about the pain she must have endured when the keys dug into her flesh. _So much for keeping this conversation light, you jackass._

Ana sighed. "Elena didn't tell me much, but she did warn me you were pretty aggressive. She said you required someone with a high pain tolerance and warned me that if I didn't take it as hard as you liked to give it, you'd drop me instantly. She warned me that safe wording even once would likely be the end of it, so make sure I really meant it if I was going to say it. I was desperate to get out of my home. I needed to keep you interested, at any cost. Honestly I was so distracted by everything _else_ going on, I didn't even notice the keys," she said absently rubbing her palm. He noticed faint silvery scars just barely visible on her hand. His gut roiled again. She had _scars_. His hand absently pressed to his chest. He knew all about scars. Fortunately, though, hers only appeared to be skin deep. "Do you have a submissive now?"

He looked back up, pulled from his thoughts by her question. "No. I wouldn't be here right now with you if I did." She looked at him confused. "It's Saturday. My subs stay with me at Escala from Friday night through Sunday. That's in the availability part of the contract."

"They stay with you?" she asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

"Yes. I have a bedroom for them. It's right next to my playroom, across from the guest room you stayed in. I outfit the closet with a wardrobe for each of them, and they can choose to do what they wish with the room since that is where they spend most of their time when we aren't in scene."

"You guys don't, like, hang out and watch movies? Go out to dinner and stuff?"

"No, Ana. I neither _hang out_ nor _go out_ with my submissives. We share meals, which they cook for us in the penthouse. But outside of that and the playroom, we don't interact much. Our arrangement is not about socializing. They are there for a purpose."

"Sounds lonely. For both of you."

"Again, they are fully aware of what they are signing up for. It's all in the contract. They know where they stand with me, and if after three months they decide our agreement is no longer working for them, we terminate."

"Why three months?"

"I've found it to be a good barometer of time for us to fall into a groove and find out if we're fully compatible. It takes some time to fall fully in sync with each other. And sometimes pairings just don't mesh."

"So everyone gets three months? Then what?"

"It's not always just three months. Of course, if they have credible reasons for wanting to end things sooner, we do. I have myself, once, after only a month. More often than not, I extend the contract beyond that time period though. However, I would only consider four of those as long term."

"Why do any of them end?"

He shrugged. "We are just no longer compatible."

"Why?"

"Various reasons. Sometimes it's something specific, but usually it's as simple as the agreement just stops being mutually well-suited. As for the long terms ones, one woman found someone else. The other three ended because the subs had developed feelings. That's grounds for immediate contract termination."

"Have you ever developed feelings? Have you ever wanted more from a sub?"

"No, Ana. You know I don't do feelings. I don't do… _more_."

"So you've never felt any desire, not even a teeny-tiny-eensy-weensy little bit, just to see where things could possibly go with even _one_ of them?"

"No," he said slightly exasperation evident in his voice. "Because I already know the answer. Things could never go anywhere. I've told you, I'm not interested in that. I'm not capable of it."

"You weren't interested in being my friend either," she said with a smirk.

"Yes, well, I'm not so sure I was wrong with that original assessment," he grinned to show her he was joking.

"You're an ass," she said, smirking with a shake of her head.

"So what about you?" he asked, turning the tables.

"What about me?"

"You know details about my sex life that no one but my therapist knows. What about you? What has happened in your personal life these last years?" Truth be told, he wanted her to have a perfectly normal relationship past. It was important to him that she truly was able to let go of their history and go on like normal. She'd done so in so many aspects of her life, but this was one where, if things hadn't been normal, it meant maybe she hadn't handled their encounter quite as well as she'd been leading him to believe.

"Nothing too exciting to tell, really," she shrugged it off. "Just your basic, routine relationship history. Nothing as interesting as your experiences."

"Try me. It's all Greek to me, Ana. You asked me questions to understand my lifestyle better, now I'm reciprocating. My normal is not your normal. Your world is as foreign to me as mine is to you, perhaps even more so."

She shrugged awkwardly. "Okay. Um, what kind of stuff do you want to know?"

"Just start from the beginning. What was your first relationship experience like?"

"Well, my first boyfriend was when I was seventeen," she said, a lazy, reminiscent smile crossing her face. "He was a friend first. We shared some classes and talked on and off, more like acquaintances, for a while. He could read me really well, and after what happened with us…," she said, motioning between them, "he was able to sense that I was dealing with some stuff. He tried to help me, tried to be there by offering to talk if I needed it. He just genuinely cared. A true friendship naturally bloomed. I'd say we were close friends for about six months before he kissed me one night outside of a house party and I was desperate to feel normal and he was… safe. So when he kissed me, it just made sense for me to go with it.

"Anyway- he knew me, he knew he was my first boyfriend. I couldn't tell him how I lost my virginity, obviously. But I also couldn't tell him that I wasn't a virgin without ever having been involved with anyone before, either. I never told him the truth, but I also couldn't lie to him, so I just let him assume I still had my virginity. I knew even then that relationships cannot be built off of lies, but things with him were always sort of forced anyway. There were no real feelings there other than friendship, at least on my side. So when he started talking about sex and losing our virginities to each other, I knew it was time to end things. I broke it off with him and he was upset. He told me he _loved_ me. You know what I told him?" She asked, looking up at him for the first time since she'd begun her story. He shook his head slowly. "I told him I didn't know what love was. " She shook her head. "I didn't. I had no frame of reference. My family didn't love me. I didn't love me. How could I love someone else? He deserved better than what I was able to offer back then. I needed to grow before involving myself in a relationship like that."

"And did you?" Christian asked.

"Did I what?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Did you grow?"

She gave a soft smile. "I did. I found someone who showed me how to grow. He made me feel free for the first time. There were no heavy emotions, just fun. Real attraction. And passion. We had a few good months together, and I learned what it was like to just live in the moment and enjoy life. He really changed me, by helping me find _me_. He was carefree and lived life in this way that… he had no regrets. I had nothing _but_ regrets. He helped me let go. I needed that before I could possibly throw myself in the 'love' ring one day."

"You didn't love him?" he asked. Love was something he still didn't understand. The ability to even understand the concept of it eluded him. The idea of people living and dying by it confounded him.

She shook her head firmly. "No. I've never been in love. But because of what he taught me, by the time we were done, I was ready to find someone that meant a little more. The next guy, he showed me that I had potential for love. He was a great guy, who I cared for quite a bit. But he wasn't in my life long enough for us to really fall in love."

"Where'd he go?"

"He decided to attend grad school on the east coast. Long distance just wasn't something we wanted to do, so we broke it off mutually," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "Those are really the main guys I think of when I consider my dating life. There have been random others, but nothing that led past a few dates. I enjoy going out on dates and trying to meet the next guy who might teach me something new, but there are a lot of duds out there. I'm not into the games guys like to play. So if they start out with that stuff right away, I have no problems walking away. I'm not looking for a husband right now. I've got some time to find Mr. Right, but that doesn't mean I'm going to waste time on just anyone. And lately, I was so busy finishing up school and moving and starting my new job that I just hadn't had time. I may not be actively looking, but I'm always open if the right guy happened to come along and sweep me off my feet."

"Sounds like cheesy movie stuff," he said, but in a non-malicious way, just observational based off of the idea that he couldn't relate to what she was talking about.

She laughed. "Maybe it is. But I have to believe there is someone out there for me who can do it all. Someone who can get me emotionally and physically. Someone who is like a best friend at the same time as they can make my heart race and my blood sing in my veins. I'm fine having fun and waiting it out until then, but in the end, I won't consider less than that. If I'm ever to get married, it will be to someone I am in love with and in lust with, who knows everything about me, all my little annoying quirks, all my dark secrets, and loves me because they make me who I am."

"And then what?" he asked.

"And then what what?"

"You find someone… the one, or whatever. You marry him. And… then what? What's the point? I don't get it," he said, frustrated. He just couldn't understand this normal relationship thing.

"And then… we live happily ever after," she said with a shrug. "I mean, I'm logical enough to realize that life isn't a fairytale. Relationships, love… they take work. Serious work. But as long as I have a man with me who is willing to stand beside me while I go through life, that's all I want. Just someone to share it with- the good and the bad."

"How do you know if you can trust someone enough to promise them the rest of your life?"

She shrugged. "You don't, really. I mean, they can earn your trust to a certain extent. They have to prove themselves somehow, to be worth the effort. But that only goes so far. At a certain point you just have to jump in with both feet and hope for the best. It's scary. But good scary. Worth it, if it works out in the end."


	13. Chapter 13

Christin saw the name 'Welch' flashing across the screen of his Blackberry just as he was about to get into the shower. Tonight was the Coping Together Gala. It was an annual event his mother held for the charity she was most actively involved in. Normally he loathed the event. He wished he could just donate money and not attend. But Grace would never stand for that. So he was always left attending for the very minimum time he could, then leaving early to avoid unnecessary pandering by the throngs of people vying for his precious time.

But tonight was different. Tonight, he'd invited Ana as his date. It wasn't **a** date. He'd made that clear to his mother when he'd told her he would be bringing Ana as his plus one. It had happened last minute. Ana had asked if he had plans for this evening, he'd told her about the gala, and the next thing he knew, he was inviting her along. And he was looking forward to it. Something about having her by his side made the whole thing seem like it would be bearable for once.

She hadn't been sure at first, immediately going into a diatribe about her inability to dance and how she would surely make him look bad in front of an endless number of family and colleagues. He'd assured her that if she left it up to him, he would lead her and no one would be any the wiser to her lack of dancing skills. After finally placating her on that front, she'd jumped straight to worrying about borrowing a dress from Kate that would be appropriate for such a high caliber event. But he'd seen to all that too, having called Caroline Action the next day to arrange for her to have a dress, shoes, undergarments and accessories, as well as scheduling her for a pampering session at a local salon where she received a massage, manicure, pedicure, makeup application and hair styling. She'd been floored, saying she couldn't accept all of it, blah blah blah, but he'd been insistent, and in the end, she'd caved. He even paid for Kate to accompany her at the salon so she would be more inclined to be comfortable and accept the offer.

"The reports came back on Jack Hyde," Welch said as soon as Christian answered his call, "He's a pretty shady character. Nothing outright on paper, but there was something I uncovered that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I decided to access his employment files, seeing as that's where Miss Steele interacts with him. It seems he has an issue keeping assistants around. All have been young woman, and none made it past three months. Yet, none, when asked why they were resigning, gave anything less than glowing reviews on Mr. Hyde. It just seems suspect to me. I have nothing to prove it's anything, just a gut feeling."

Christian nodded in agreement, not even questioning how Welch accessed SIP's HR files. Don't ask, don't tell worked out very well in many faucets of their particular relationship. But he agreed with Welch; this could be nothing, but it could be something. And he always operated on the 'better safe than sorry' principle. "Dig into him deeper," he said. "Use whatever resources at your disposal to find out the real reason those assistants left."

"Yes, sir," Welch said, disconnecting the call. Christian set his phone down, refocusing on the task of getting ready.

He took a long shower, trying to refocus his mind on the evening ahead. He knew he would be facing a barrage of questions from everyone there about Ana. He'd never brought a date to one of these things, and he knew, unfortunately, the masses would find that to be a big deal. So he just wanted to get through the whole thing as seamlessly as possible. He didn't want the attention to get uncomfortable for Ana. After a hot shower and a shave, he was ready to get dressed.

Toweling off his hair, he stepped out from his bathroom and into the bedroom where his tux was already waiting for him.

"Christian? Taylor let me up, he said—OH!"

Those were the words Christian heard as he stood in his bedroom, naked as the day he was born, toweling off his hair.

And when he removed the towel from his head, he was greeted with the sight of a flawless Ana, dressed in the stunning gown he'd bought for her, perfect hair and makeup, looking every bit the goddess she was surely meant to be. She was standing in his bedroom doorway, her fist frozen in front of the wooden door like she had intended to knock but never made it that far, her mouth agape in such a way that it reminded him of the painting The Scream by Edvard Munch.

But it was what her eyes were doing that was most interesting to him at the moment. They raked down the length of his body, not once, not twice, but three times, before settling south of his torso. Instinct would have been to immediately cover oneself while being caught in the nude by someone who didn't normally see you in such a way. If he'd reacted on instinct, her eyes would probably have only had the chance to roll over him once. But, instead, he'd just frozen himself in place, completely exposed, taking in the sight of her taking in the sight of him, before he slowly brought the towel down and covered his manhood with it. There was no denying he could be a cocky son of a bitch when he wanted to be. He'd stood in front of a plethora of submissives, granting them access to look at him, and reveled in the lust his form induced in their eyes. Truthfully, he was surprised to see Ana react in such a way. She hadn't given him any indication during the duration of their acquaintance that she was physically affected by him in the least. He knew his "beauty" was only skin deep, but he was human, and admitted that sometimes it was nice to revel in the affect that had on women. He could do without it 85% of the time, like while he was at dinner or work or anywhere else, but in an intimate setting it was nice to have that effect on a beautiful woman, and Ana was certainly that.

The towel acted as the desired distraction from her blatant gaping, her eyes snapping up, meeting his, and he was greeted with the most endearing blush he'd ever fucking seen. Her eyes flashed a few different things in those moments before settling on hot, hot embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, turning on her heel and disappearing from his doorway altogether.

"Ana, wait," he called after her, wrapping the towel around his waist and following her out into the hall.

"No!" she said, almost panicked, not turning around to look at him again. "No. Just—get dressed, and I'll—I'll be waiting out here."

He complied, turning back to his room to put on his tux. He didn't have much time anyway- they needed leave soon and the formidable Grace Grey would certainly not tolerate tardiness.

He was quick to finish, needing only to dress, one of the blessings of being born a man. He knew for a fact Ana had spent hours at the salon preparing for the evening, while he had simply to shower and shave and throw on a tux.

Swiftly making his way down the hall, he went to the living room to find Ana waiting for him. She turned toward him when he walked in the room, her eyes scanning him only once this time before they found his.

"I don't know which way you look better, naked or in a tux," she said, obviously trying to use humor as a means to dissipate the potential awkwardness at her earlier reaction and make it seem like no big deal. She would have been convincing too, had her cheeks not heated again as she spoke.

He smirked in response. He contemplated making a joke about evening the score, but decided not to. Instead he strode toward her, stopping when he stood in front of her. "You look absolutely stunning this evening, Ana."

"Thank you, Christian," she said, seemingly more at ease, the slight tension that had been around her eyes now replaced with the tiny crinkle that appeared when she was truly happy.

"I almost forgot," he said suddenly, remembering the jewelry he'd purchased to match her dress. She was currently wearing a thin silver chain with a pinpoint diamond dangling from it. No, she needed and deserved something far more extravagant than that.

He went back to his room, reemerging with the small red boxes. Setting the smaller on the coffee table, he opened the larger first, revealing a platinum necklace embellished with diamond and sapphires. They would stand out against her pale skin and accent her silver dress beautifully.

A light gasp left her mouth as she stared at the box, her hand covering her mouth briefly before she looked up at him in shock. "Christian, it's beautiful," she whispered. "Is it for the auction?"

The… huh? "What?"

"Is that what these things are like? People auction off donated things for charity. Is this your donation?" She looked at him, her eyes so perfectly innocent as she asked these questions.

He sighed, shaking his head in an effort to stave off his laughter. "No, Ana. They're for you. For tonight. I had them sent over for you when I ordered the rest of your outfit."

"For _me_?" she asked, pressing her hands to her chest, her eyes wide. "You rented me a necklace?"

"_Rented_?" he asked, his jaw dropping slightly. He actually took offense to that. "No. I did not **rent** you jewelry. I _bought_ the pieces. There's a matching bracelet and earrings in the other box."

"Christian, I can't—"

"You can and you will. I asked you to accompany me tonight. The least I could do is make sure you're prepared for the occasion."

"But the amount of money for the dress _alone, _before factoring in the hair and the—"

"It's nothing Ana. All of it. I promise you, it's money I won't miss, that was well spent on someone who was more than deserving. I have more money than I could spend in twenty lifetimes. I am happy to treat you to all the extravagances available, especially when you're doing me the great pleasure of standing by my side tonight."

"Well I'm not keeping them. So I will accept your generous offer to _borrow_ them, but you're getting them back," she said threateningly.

"As you wish," he said with a frustrated sigh, knowing he would just refuse to ever take them back. "May I assist you in putting them on?"

"Please," she nodded, "I'm scared to touch them."

This brought back the smirk to his face. She was so goddamn endearing sometimes. He gently swept the curtain of perfect curls off her back and over her shoulder. With deft fingers, he made quick work of removing the necklace she had been wearing before replacing it with the Cartier. She thanked him quietly as he draped her hair down her back again. Despite her earlier comment, she was willing to put in the earrings by herself, and he stepped in front of her to assist her with the bracelet. After he had it clasped on, he gave her a once over again now that she was complete. "Like I said before, stunning," he said with an appreciative nod.

She blushed lightly but smiled. "You're very dashing yourself, Mr. Grey," she said, reaching up to straighten out his bowtie. Quick as a flash, he felt the panic rush over him as her hands neared his chest. He grabbed her wrists, stopping her abruptly from coming in contact with him.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion at his sudden action, her whole body freezing and his fingers tightened around her wrists unconsciously.

"Mr. Grey, Miss Steele, we need to be leaving if you want to make it to Bellevue by seven," Taylor said, stepping into the room, allowing Christian's mind the short reprieve it needed. Graciously, his wrists flexed and his fingers slid the short distance from her wrists to her hands. His fingers slipped between hers, gingerly pulling her hands to the sides and down.

"Are you ready, Ana?" he asked, his voice completely cool, as if the confusing moment had never occurred.

"Yeah," she said slowly, like she was deciding whether or not to let it go, "Yes. I'm ready," she finally said, her full smile returning again.

Taylor called for the elevator door to open, and the three crossed the threshold, on their way to the gala.

* * *

The whole night had gone off without a hitch thus far. There had only been two photographers allowed on the premises for the event, so they hadn't had to deal with any sort of media circus surrounding the fact that Christian Grey had brought a woman to an event for the first time ever. His family was on their best behavior as well, seemingly accepting the fact that Ana was here as a friend, not a real date, for Christian tonight.

And Ana was handling all the attention well. She wasn't merely tolerating the event, she was enjoying it. She'd been by his side as they mingled through the crowds prior to dinner. The masses were more eager for information, but no one could dodge a question like Christian Grey. He introduced Ana as his companion for the evening and never elaborated when people pressed for more information on her. A charming smile as he politely dismissed them from the conversation was all they received.

Mia had talked Ana into participating in the first dance auction while Christian had been talking shop with a colleague. He was sure Ana hadn't known what she'd agreed to, and he was proven right when she paled moments ago as all the participants were called to the stage.

She had reiterated to him when she's first spotted the dance floor and band that she was a terrible dancer, and so he knew the idea of her first dance being with a stranger was not something she would want. He knew without a doubt he would be the one to win her dance this evening.

He stood back as the half dozen girls were placed center stage, the MC listing off unique and fantastical talents for each of them. The girls grinned, each squealing with delight as dates, boyfriend, strangers bid a few thousand dollars for each of them, including Mia who went for four. He didn't give any of them a second glance, instead focusing on Ana, who seemed more and more nervous after each girl who left the stage.

And finally she was called forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, next up we have the beautiful Ana. Ana is a skydiving instructor who spends her free time rescuing baby animals abandoned in the wild. She speaks six languages, and would someday like to colonize Mars." He couldn't help but smile at the shocked look Ana shot the MC, but he just winked at her and continued on. "Can we start the bidding on the lovely Ana?"

Christian stepped forward, his voice strong and firm, as usual. "Five thousand," he said, matching the highest bid that had won a girl so far this evening. Ana smiled down at him appreciatively.

"Six," came a voice from behind him. He wasn't sure who it was, or if he even knew the person who had bid, but there was no way he was letting anyone else win her dance. She looked at him anxiously, almost pleadingly, like she wasn't sure he would be willing to go higher.

"Seven," he said, trying to convey to her with his eyes that he would not be outdone, so she needn't worry.

"Eight," another voice countered, this time one that was familiar to him.

He shot a look over to his brother who was grinning broadly at him, before shooting a look to Ana and wiggling his eyebrows at her. Ana smiled back at him, glancing behind her at Kate who grinning too. They all knew it was just Elliot being Elliot, and a ploy to make Christian spend more money.

"Ten," Christian said, watching as Elliot lifted his hands in conceit, the grin will on his face.

"Going once, going twice… sold for ten thousand dollars! A new record for the first dance auction, I do believe," the MC said with a grin.

Christian made his way to her, holding out his hand to help her down the few steps to the small stage. "Thank you," she said immediately. "I had no idea _that_ was what I signed up for. I would have been horrified to have to dance with a stranger."

"It was my pleasure, Ana. I am honored to have your first dance," he said. And he was. The price was worth every penny if it meant she was comfortable, and she was clearly only comfortable with him this evening. Hell, she hadn't even complained about the fact that he'd spent even more money, so it was obvious she was grateful.

The dance was to immediately follow the action, so Christian and Ana stood off to the side by Elliot, who was still waiting to bid on Kate, while the last few girls were actioned off. Kate was second to last, and Elliot offered up eighty-five hundred right away for her, and won her without argument at the steep price.

"Smart man, knowing to bid more on her than you did for me," Ana chuckled to him.

Elliot winked at her. "This isn't my first rodeo, sweetheart." They laughed together. "I will be looking for you for a _free_ dance later, okay?" Ana nodded, and Elliot left to go meet Kate at the stage.

The MC announced the beginning of the first dance. "Shall we?" Christian asked, holding his hand out for her to take. She smiled, eyebrows raised in reminder about her dancing skills, but she diligently slipped her slim fingers into his palm and let him lead her out onto the floor. He came to a stop in the exact middle of the floor, pulling her toward him until he could wrap his right arm around her back.

The first notes of The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra came floating from the band, he watched her face fill with apprehension, displaying how out of her element she felt, her left hand hovering somewhere between his bicep and his shoulder, having no idea where to place it. He gave her a small, reassuring smile, bringing her left hand up and hooking it around the top of his right shoulder, placing it just at the dip of his neck where he knew he could handle it. He brought his hand back down, wrapping it again around her back just above her waist and pulling her a half step closer. "I told you, leave it up to me. I promise you, I'll make you look like Ginger Rogers."

They swayed to the music in silence, starting off slow before Christian decided to up the ante and really lead her around the floor. Her eyes shot to his in a moment of panic as he picked up the pace, but she soon settled into the groove and grinned up at him. He returned it with a cocky grin.

"Seriously, is there anything you can't do?" she asked.

He winked at her, a boyish grin on his face. His grip tightened around her, and without warning, he dipped her back just as the singer was singing the words _'And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, It touches my foolish heart…'_ Her hand urgently grasped at his upper back, her fingertips flexing against him between his spine and his shoulder blade. It was a no-go area, but he didn't notice, his attention on her as she hung suspended in his arms, the tips of her hair skating across the surface of the floor below her, her face flushing as her lips parted with a girlish squeal.

As he righted her, she let out the most endearing giggle, her hair tumbling back into place over her shoulders, His eyes drew down to her mouth as she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on it gently, stifling her giggle. He let his eyes linger on that lip for a moment before he took in her whole face. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining bright with pure joy. Fuck, she stunning…

And that was when he felt it. Something was there, deep inside of his chest. Something he didn't understand.

_Attraction._

That had to be what this was. He'd been trying to fight it, but it was pointless. He had only been able to keep convincing himself for so long that he didn't find her attractive, so he should have known it would only be a matter of time before he would have to admit that he was attracted _to_ her.

And then, as quick as the realization came, the first tendrils of disgust started to sink in at the idea. He sickened himself. How could he be attracted to her? This girl, from whom he's savagely ripped away her virginity. He'd been disgusted by himself for years because he'd had her sexually. And now, he was feeling physical desire toward her again? He was a truly and utterly vile human being.

I an instant he knew he needed to get out. His whole body stiffened and he deliberately put a little more space between them. Her hand was still pressed against the outskirts of his back, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he grabbed the offending hand and pulled it from his shoulder. He saw her looking up at him, questioning the change in his demeanor.

Before the last notes of the song even finished, he was dropping her hands between them. He said a quick, "Thank you for the honor of your first dance this evening," as was customary for the first dance auction, and turned on heel, walking away, leaving her standing in the middle of the dance floor by herself.

He could see the looks from his brother and Kate as he passed them, mouths open, eyes darting between him and Ana, as he walked away. He felt the heat of embarrassment at his actions, realizing how truly deplorable it was of him to just drop her hands and walk away, leaving her out there by herself with no explanation. But it was too late to turn back. Others probably noticed too, and going back would only draw more attention to them now. So he kept his head high, his eyes forward, and exited the giant tent, making his way into his parent's home.

He nodded his head to a few people who were lingering around, even heard someone call his name, but he was not stopping to small talk with anyone. He went straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he found himself in his childhood bedroom. His hands sunk into his hair the moment he'd closed the door, tugging it roughly.

**Fuck**.

What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he be attracted to her? How? And how could he just abandon her out on the dance floor like that? Before the song even ended? It was such a dick move. It wasn't her fault he was such a fuck up, yet she was the one suffering the wrath.

But he just couldn't be _near_ her. Not after admitting to himself what he had. He was disgusting. He was pathetic.

"Christian?" The muffled voice coupled with the knock at his door drew him out of his self-loathing spiral. "Christian, it's John." He let out a frustrated groan, but opened the door, letting his psychiatrist enter the room. "I tried catching up to you downstairs. I was calling out to you," he said.

"I needed to get away," Christian said, irritated.

"I saw," he said, letting Christian know he'd seen the whole thing. "The MC, he said that girl's name was Ana. I am assuming this is not a coincidence. That was _the_ Ana, correct? Anastasia?"

"Yes," Christian said, short and curt.

"Was it a coincidence that she was here tonight? Did she come with someone?" John asked. He would start out small, with these simple questions, to try and get Christian out of this 'pulling teeth' mode he was all too familiar with, and get him to open up a little. It was obvious he was battling something internally, and John, as always, wanted to help the young man.

"No coincidence. She came with me," Christian said.

"A date?"

"No," Christian said, turning to face him and looking him in the eye for the first time since he'd stepped into the room. "Just as friends."

"I see," John said, keeping his tone nonchalant. "It was quite the novelty, seeing you out on the floor. You're quite a good dancer. I had no idea. Did Grace make you take dance lessons?"

Christian ground his teeth. "Elena," he said gruffly.

John raised an eyebrow. "Elena taught you to dance?"

"Yes," he said, again clipped.

"Interesting," John said with a nod. "Did you ever dance with your subs?"

Christian's head again shot in John's direction. "No," he spat emphatically. "You know I was only physically close with them while we fucked," he said firmly, then adding more softly, as if to himself. "And even if I'd wanted to, I wouldn't have trusted them not to touch me."

"So you trust Ana not to touch you," John said, more than asked. It was the logical assumption, based off of what Christian had just said. "Does she know about your haphephobia?"

"No—yes. No," he said quickly, not sure what sentence he was answering, or even what the answer was. "No, I've never told her about it."

"But, yes, you do trust her?" John asked, curious about what his 'yes' was answering.

"No. I mean, yes, I do trust her, with a lot of things. I'm sure, if she knew about the haphephobia, I could trust her with that too, but she doesn't know."

"So why didn't you tell her?" John asked. He'd seen the whole display on the dance floor, as had the rest of the gala. At first he wasn't sure, but now he was positive that Christian hadn't realized how many eyes were on the pair as they'd danced. Normally Christian was supremely aware of his surroundings. But apparently Ana was an adequate enough distraction to keep him from noticing the hundreds of pairs of eyes that had been on him while the Sinatra song crooned in the background. John had seen her hand slip when Christian had dipped her back. He'd seen her fingers stray into his forbidden zone. And then he, and everyone else, had seen Christian tense, remove her hand, and drop her like a sack of potatoes smack dab in the middle of the dance floor. For someone as bright as Christian was, John was having a hard time understanding why Christian wouldn't have just forewarned her of his touch-phobia, especially if he trusted her with the information, as he just claimed he would have.

"I had no need to until now. We don't really… touch. We aren't physical. There was no reason for her to know, because she's never gotten that close."

"But you danced together, Christian. You _were_ physical. You _were_ that close. Don't you think it would have only been fair to warn her, so that what _just_ happened, **didn't** happen?"

"What do you mean?" Christian asked, looking at John briefly, confused. What was he talking about?

"Christian, you tore her hands off of you and just left her there. The song wasn't even over. I was watching. I saw her touch your back. I know how bad that must have been for you, but if you didn't give her any warning about it, how was she to know?"

Christian's mind started to reel as he thought back to that moment. She'd touched his back? He'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of attraction and the subsequent self-loathing that he hadn't even noticed. But now that he knew, he felt like he could feel her hand on him. His skin burned as if her fingertips were currently there, like hot iron pokers searing his skin. He brought his hand to his back and rubbed it, wincing, before feeling the phantom pain subside.

John was still looking at him, waiting for his answer. He let out a deep, shaky sigh. "That's not why I walked away," he said, his voice sounding defeated.

"It's not?" John asked, surprised. But she'd touched him. John had seen it. She'd touched him, and almost immediately, Christian had ripped her hand from him back and walked away.

"No. It's—I-," he said, letting out a groan, pulling at his hair again. He took a seat on the edge of his childhood bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I dipped her back, and when I brought her back up, she was glowing. She giggled, and then looked up at me with those big blue eyes alight with happiness and I… I felt something, in _here_," he said, his hand hovering over his chest for a moment before he placed it over his gut. But John noticed the stall over his chest. Interesting. It wasn't in his gut he'd felt something, it was in his chest. "It hit me like a ton of bricks. It had to be attraction."

"Maybe it was more than attraction," John said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe it's feelings."

Christian glared at him, frustrated. "What is it with you? Can't you focus on the real problem instead of ones you keep perceiving, please?"

John grinned. "To be fair, the last problem I _perceived_ was attraction, and it looks like I was right so…"

"Get the fuck out if you're not going to—" he started, pointing toward the door.

"Fine, fine," John interrupted, raising his hands defensively. "So. You abandoned her out in the middle of the dance floor because you felt attracted to her." John asked, restating the story. "Why?"

"Because. It's disgusting that I'm attracted to her," Christian said, his eyes going unfocused, looking back behind John again. "It's fucked up. I'm sick."

"Why would that make you sick Christian? She's an adult woman. She is obviously your type, physically, being that's why Elena set you up with her in the first place. So what's wrong with being attracted to her?"

"After what I did to her when she was only sixteen?" he asked, "It's disgusting to want her body still now." John needed to bring him out of this line of thought. There was so much potential with the Ana situation. Christian had already made such great strides with the friendship aspect of it all. Now John needed to find a way to keep him from refocusing on their past and start embracing their present, and hopefully, future.

"Christian we've talked about this. We've talked about your mindset regarding this topic. Don't regress. You unknowingly had sex with an underage girl. You use it as a way to self-deprecate and that's not what we're here to do. You need to move on from the semantics of it and delve deeper into the root of the issue. We both agree that what you did wasn't right by moral standards, but you need to start seeing that it wasn't intentional on your part. Had you had all the facts, you would have made a different decision. You are the man who would have done the right thing had he known, you are the man who cared for her afterwards when he found out the truth. This act does not define you as a person. I know I sound like a broken record, but I'll repeat is as many times as I need to until you see that it's true. You're projecting your repulsion of physically desiring her as a teen onto your ability to physically desire her now when they're two separate things. She's not a teenager anymore, Christian. You don't have to feel guilty for finding a 21 year old woman attractive."

Silence permeated the room for a long minute while Christian just stared. That was when John noticed that his eyes didn't look unfocused. They looked laser focused, just on something behind him. He turned discretely, acting like he was just shifting positions, then followed Christian's line of sight right to a bulletin board handing above a desk. _Well, that's fucking interesting_, he thought the moment he noticed the small picture stuck into the side border on the board. It was instantaneous, his recognition. The image was of a young woman, brunette, pale, petite, with striking grey eyes. There was no doubt of whom the woman in the picture was. And it shocked John to learn that Christian kept a picture of his birthmother on display in his childhood bedroom. And the way Christian was focusing on said picture at this moment… Whether he realized it or not, John was sure this abhorrence was about more than just Christian's guilt about having rough sex with an underage Ana. It was also tied very closely with guilt regarding the deeply psychological reason why Christian was drawn to women who looked like Ana to begin with. But that topic was best saved for another time. Right now, he just wanted to see the young man back out on the dance floor, interacting with someone outside of his work force or family, and having _fun_.

Casually, as if he was just shifting positons, John moved so he was now leaning on the desk, effectively blocking Christian's line of sight from the picture as he spoke. Christian blinked a few times, his eyes refocusing on John before he ran his hands over his face roughly, letting out a sigh.

"You can sit here and bitch and moan about how you shouldn't be allowed to be attracted to Ana. _**Or,**_ you can admit to yourself that, yeah, you **are** attracted to someone who, I can assure you,_ is_ a very attractive woman- someone who you consider a friend, who you care for. And you can go out there and apologize for ditching her on the dance floor, take her back onto the floor, dance with her, and have a good time like the goddamn twenty-eight year old that you are. No one says you have to _marry_ her. You've been going through these calculated motions all these years. Maybe it's time you start just living a little."


	14. Chapter 14

Christian made his way back to the tent where he'd left Ana. He came back slower than he'd left, unsure of what he was going to do or say, or if he was even going to find her there. In fact, he was kind of sure she would have bailed. Who _wouldn't_ have bailed? He'd abandoned her in a room full of upper-class, elite _strangers_ who had all had their attention pegged on her because she'd come with **him**. She was the elusive brunette who had been seen in the gossip magazines with him, out in public. She was like a zoo exhibit to all of these people, and he'd brought her out on the dancefloor, put her on display, and had walked away, leaving her there to handle it alone. So, no, he would not be surprised if she bailed. Who was he kidding, he was _hoping_ she had bailed, because then he wouldn't have to go out there and face her. She was a confident, strong woman, but he knew how out of place she felt at this event. She'd made that clear when he'd invited her.

"_I don't know, Christian. That is a whole world I didn't know. Take me out on the dancefloor at a club, and I'm good. But this isn't that. This is fancy. I am in no way familiar with high-society etiquette. This is people in gowns and tuxes, greeting with double kisses on the cheek, eating with seven different forks, and then going out to do a proper Waltz on the dance floor. I will stick out like a sore thumb."_

But he'd promised her that she wouldn't. He'd promised her that he would be there every step of the way, he would make sure she was comfortable, and he would guide her though any situation in which she felt unsure. And then he'd paraded her out on the floor in front of everyone and left. her. there.

Fuck.

Shaking his head in frustration at himself, he continued on, slowing to a stop as he reached the tent. He searched around for her, first looking at the table, which was empty. Then checking the outskirts, anywhere that she might be trying to blend into the background. Maybe she was hiding out in the bathroom? If, of course, she was still here. Craning his neck to see around a small group of people, he spotted her. Not hidden in the shadows, but out on the dance floor.

She was still here. And she was dancing. And smiling.

Maybe she wasn't mad after all? Okay. Good. This was good. He inhaled deeply, calming his nerves, letting out a long, cleansing, relieved breath. Everything would be okay. He could just go out there, cut in on her dance, and they could pick up where they left off. She would be none the wiser to his almost-breakdown, and they could finish out the night on as good of a note as it had started.

With a renewed sense of calm, Christian straightened himself up, poised and dignified like he usually was, and began to make his way to her. She was dancing with a friend of Elliot's, Ryan- something, he thought, smiling at him as he appeared to be talking animatedly to her about something. The closer he got the more relaxed he felt. Her smile, the light in her eyes as he watched her laugh, helped settle the remaining chaos inside of him.

He walked up next to them, seeing Ryan glance to the side and catch a glimpse of him, raising an eyebrow at him as he approached. He leaned in, whispering something to Ana, whose head shot to the side, her eyes immediately landing on his. He smiled. Then he frowned.

Her eyes went from happy to furious to detached in less than a second. Her face remained stoic, but those blue eyes were like splintered glass, bright and piercing hot right through him before she turned and looked the other way.

His confidence waned a little, his steps slowing slight in hesitation. But still he approached them, his voice more sure than he suddenly felt. "Can I cut in?"

"No," she said, her tone flat, lifeless. Not driven by anger, just smooth and emotionless. Fuck. So she _was_ mad.

He watched Ryan's hands tighten around her a little, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he looked Christian over. Christian did not like that someone else was a part of this moment between them. Especially a cocky little prick who was smirking like he'd won some sort of competition because Ana said 'no'. Christian tried to ignore him. His focus needed to be on Ana. Christian leaned toward her, reaching a hand out and just barely grazing her forearm with the tips of his fingers. "Come on, Ana," he said quietly.

She flinched, pulling her arm in and away from his touch. "I said no," she said firmly, not even looking at him.

"Ana, please. We need to talk. Be reasonable," he said, letting his frustration roll over into anger, and in turn snapping at her more harshly than he'd intended to.

She closed her eyes as if to collect herself for a brief moment, before looking up and around them. He followed her eyes, seeing what she was seeing, that they again had an audience. Turning her head to look at him, she plastered on the fakest smile he'd ever seen, before saying, "I don't want to talk, Christian. I don't even want to _be_ here. I want to be so fucking far from this place, you have no idea. But right now, I'm just trying to salvage my fucking dignity. So please, allow me that," she said. He felt those words like a punch to the gut.

He wanted to argue. Wanted to… something. But she wasn't having it. And he knew the worst thing he could do to her would be to make a scene. Again. He didn't like being told no, but he didn't really have a leg to stand on here anymore. So he reluctantly ceded to her demand. For now. "Fine. Find me when you're ready to talk." he said through clenched teeth, tension around his eyes as he tried to keep a straight face in front of all the watchful eyes. So he bowed out, a tight smile on his face, playing the game for her benefit, as well as everyone else around them.

He turned on heel, frustrated, and started walking, only to be stopped by Elliot along the way.

"Christian," he said, grabbing his forearm to stop him while he whispered something in Kate's ear. She nodded, giving Christian a hard stare before she left the dance floor toward the direction of the bathrooms.

"What, Elliot?" Christian asked, somewhat exasperated. He obviously already knew what his brother wanted to talk about, and he wasn't in the mood to explain himself to anyone other than Ana right now.

Elliot beckoned him away from the crowd and back to their now empty table. "Look," he said, taking in and letting out a deep breath. "I know what happened out there, with Ana earlier. I saw it."

"Saw what, exactly?"

"Her touch you. The second you dipped her back and I saw her hand fly to your back, I knew it was going to be nothing but bad news."

"Elliot—" he started, ready to interrupt and tell him that wasn't what had spurred his action to ditch her.

But Elliot put up his hand to cut Christian off and kept talking. "No, listen. I get it. I do. Obviously we- Mom, Dad, Mia and I- we get it. Because we know about your touch stuff. But does Ana? I bet not, and that's fine that you haven't told her, because I know how private you are, but I think you need to tell her now. You need to talk to her and explain why you reacted the way you did. The girl is sweet as sugar and more compassionate than Mother Teresa. I'm sure she'll forgive you once you explain."

Christian rolled his eyes. "I tried to talk to her just now. She doesn't want to talk. She doesn't want me anywhere near her right now."

"Of course she doesn't!" Elliot hissed. "You need to give her some time to cool down. Give her a couple of hours to relax, let the harshest part of her anger subside, then talk to her _in private_. Explain. And _apologize_. Because, dude, you abandoned her out on the dance floor in front of all of those people, and that was kind of really shitty. Plus, Kate is up my asshole about telling you off for treating her best friend like that… So I need you to fix it. For Ana, obviously, because she deserves better. But for me too. I have plans for me and Kate tonight, and Ana being upset it going to make Kate focus on _her_, not me, and I really could use some _focused attention_, if you know what I mean."

Christian glared at his brother. "My main concern is Ana, not your dick, Elliot."

"Of course. And it should be. I'm just saying," he said with a shrug and a smirk. Typical Elliot. Christian shook his head at his brother and he turned and went back to the table. He watched Ana out on the dancefloor from over the rim of a glass of water as he took a sip. He could tell she was purposefully avoiding looking in his direction. She was smiling, more relaxed than she'd been in the moments he'd been over there talking to her, but he could still see the tension in her posture. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling his frustration rise. He just wished that she would talk to him.

* * *

As the last of the colorful burning embers dipped from the sky, landing in the depthless black water, Christian sighed. Finally, this fucking night was over. He had wanted to bolt the minute Ana refused to speak to him on the dance floor, but he'd been afraid of making matters worse between them. If she'd decided she wanted to speak to him, and he was gone, he knew it would be bad, so he'd stuck around.

But Ana had not come to speak with him. He'd watched from his spot at their table as she'd remained on the dance floor for a few more songs, even dancing with Elliot once. She'd avoiding looking in his direction the whole time, and he had started to grow impatient. So he'd settled on diverting his attention away from her and onto those around him.

He'd spoken briefly to his parents and his sister, all who had seen what had occurred on the dance floor between him and Ana. Except they all had assumed, like Flynn and Elliot, that it had been because she'd touched him. All of them tried to tell him that they understood his reaction, and that they knew it would be hard for him, but Ana deserved at least a partial explanation for why he reacted the way he did. They all quietly urged him to tell her about his haphephobia, and apologize for leaving her out there on the dance floor alone. _"She's a really nice, sweet girl. She will understand, Christian. But you should be honest with her…"_

He'd been more than irritated with their advice, so he'd made a conscious effort to avoid them for the remainder of the evening. They were pressing him to be honest, but the truth wasn't that her touch had spurred his reaction. He'd _much_ rather tell her about his haphephobia than have to stand there and tell her he was attracted to her. To explain the haphephobia, he would have to talk about his past. And as much as he didn't want to do that, he did trust Ana with that very private information, and he, too, was sure she'd be understanding of it once she knew the story explaining why it affected his life. So as much as he didn't want to have that conversation, it would be much easier than having to admit he'd run because he'd sudden found himself desiring her. _That_ could very well ruin their friendship. And the thought of ruining something he was finding so much happiness in, something he'd finally accepted and found peace in, was causing an overwhelming feeling of dread to flow through him.

So in the effort to avoid more loving family advice, he'd spent the rest of the evening meandering around aimlessly, chatting with other guests, wasting time until Ana either found him to talk, or he could finally take her home and hopefully coerce a discussion then. He'd been approached by random people as he wasted time walking around the grounds. Women, as usual, approached him, more often than not reeking of desperation, all batting eyelashes and lewd smirks, hoping to catch his attention. It had been even worse since the tabloids started showing him with Ana. He would have thought being seen with a woman would deter other woman from vying for his attention, but instead it seemed to urge them to purse him even harder. Maybe it was because they were now more confident that he wasn't gay, as had sometimes been speculated. Or maybe it was something else entirely, which he didn't understand, because he would admit he often found the inner workings of the woman mind to be enigmatic. Whatever it was, it had them more zealous in their attempts to get his attention, and tonight was no exception.

When it wasn't them, this evening, it was slews of both professional and lecherous business people, always eager to catch him when they could, hoping to be awarded a new business opportunity or a free ride on his coattails. Normally he didn't like to talk business at these types of events, but tonight, as a distraction, he indulged the respectable professionals, doling out chunks of his time to hear their offers, their ideas, their pitches. It did help him pass the time, albeit not as much as he had hoped.

The Master of Ceremonies had announced the firework show, and Christian had watched as the hundreds of people filed out from the tent and surrounding area to watch the display. He'd hoped that maybe the ambiance of fireworks over the lake would put her in a calmer, happier, more receptive mood to talk. And forgive. So he'd looked for her, only to catch a glimpse of her as she made her way toward the lake with Kate and Elliot and Elliot's friend. He'd hung back, and again resigned himself to the reality that he was going to have to wait out the entire evening to speak with her. It was dark, and with everyone huddled together, it was hard to tell anyone apart. He lost track of Ana in the crowd, so he stayed on the outskirts of the grassy area which accommodated all the guests and decided to wait it out there.

He tried to focus on it, but found himself very much disinterested in the display. He'd _been_ looking forward to it. When the evening first started he'd expected it to be the highlight of the night. But that was when he'd expected to be able to take it in with Ana. He'd never seen the big deal about fireworks before. _A sourpuss_. That was what Ana had called him when he said he never stuck around for the fireworks because they were for kids. She'd shared a story with him once about how much she enjoyed fireworks and how every year on the Fourth of July, she and her stepfather would walk down to Montesano Town Park, lay out a blanket on the infield of the local baseball field, and watch the fireworks. It was a memory she clearly she loved. The way she spoke about it, her eyes lit up, her voice pitched high with delight. She was excited, which in turn had incited excitement in him. He found himself doing what he so often did with her—questioning himself, pushing himself, changing his routine. Her excitement was contagious, and he'd wanted to experience it for himself. With her. But that idea was shot to shit, and he had instead spent the time sitting by himself while she shared this memory with other people.

The crowd erupted in applause as the last spark snuffed out in the water, and with a last thank you from the MC, the crowd collectively began to move, all heading out for the evening. Christian's eyes flitted among the throngs of people trying to find Ana. He felt both relieved and tenser, knowing he was finally going to get to talk to her, yet knowing he finally had to talk to her. It needed to be done, but it was not going to be fun to do. A double edged sword. After coming up empty in his attempts to catch her with his own eye, he decided on using the number one resource at his disposal: Taylor.

Taylor likely already knew her location, seeing as he had a keen awareness of all persons here. Plus, he was charged with knowing Christian's every move, and Ana was his date for the evening, so it was likely he was keeping a watchful on her as well.

He approached his PPO, watching his eyes sweeping the crowd as they dispersed from around the lakefront. He knew from previous years that Taylor absolutely hated the fireworks display. It was another reason he almost always skipped it. It was one of his most stress inducing things to handle, because of the lowered visibility due to the darkness being bombarded with distracting flashes of light, the amount of people, and the loud booming. If anyone wanted to target him, surely this would be a more opportune time to pull it off than most. And since Christian didn't hold much stock in it, it wasn't really worth putting his PPO in such a mentally taxing situation for something he didn't care about anyway.

"Sir, I'd like us to wait here until the crowd disperses some," Taylor said as soon as he was within earshot.

"Sure," Christian nodded. "Where's Ana?"

He saw Taylor's brief hesitation and frowned. "I'm not sure of Miss Steele's location at the moment, sir."

Christian felt the irrational irritation. Logically, he knew it wasn't Taylor's objective to be watching Ana. It was his objective to be watching Christian. And in the darkness, in a crowd of this size, when Christian and Ana weren't together, it was a lot to expect from his right hand man.

"Find her," he seethed, his teeth clenched as he tried to remain reasonable and remind himself this wasn't Taylor's job.

"Yes, sir," he said, speaking into his Bluetooth to, who Christian assumed to be, the other security personnel stationed near the entrance.

Minutes passed and the crowd thinned. Christian's eyes scanned every person who walked past him, but none of them were Ana. He felt his irritation growing until relief hit him when he saw Elliot. Elliot meant Kate and Kate meant Ana. He excused himself as he cut off a couple walking adjacent to him in order to catch up to his brother.

"Elliot!" He called out, watching his brother stop and turn toward the sound of his voice. He caught up to him quickly. "Hey, where's Ana?" he asked, looking around, and still not seeing her.

His eyes landed on Kate who let a smug smirk curl on her bright red lips. "She went home with Ryan," he said, her voice tinged with triumph and amusement.

Christian's eye's shot to Elliot, who rolled his eyes at his girlfriend. "Kate," he warned, before looking at Christian with a hint of sympathy. "Ryan offered to give her a ride home since I wanted to take Kate back to my place."

Christian found himself frozen for a moment, not sure what he was feeling right now. It was something he'd never felt before and it made him tense and sick. He tried to dismiss it, but failed, so he settled on his usual tactic of projecting ambiguity. "Right. Well. As long as she gets home safe," he said with a slow nod, turning on heel to head back to Taylor. He heard Elliot call out for him, but ignored it, catching just a moment of his low hiss at Kate before he was out of hearing distance from the pair.

Ana went home with someone else. She left him here.

_How fitting._

* * *

"All I'm asking for is some advice here, John," Christian said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He looked tired. And he _was_ tired. He had barely slept over the weekend, dedicating most of his midnight hours to work, his piano, or the Escala gym.

"I gave you advice on _Saturday_ Christian. _Two days_ _ago_. And that advice still stands. I told you to be honest." It was eight o'clock Monday morning and Christian had been leaning up against John Flynn's office door waiting a full twenty minutes before John himself arrived. He needed to be in the office by 9:30 for his weekly meeting with Ros. He just needed to get some advice first. He knew he was going to force a meeting with Ana today, but he needed some final counsel before he did so. John had groaned internally when he'd first seen Christian perched up against his office door. So much for his pre-patient prep time… If Christian was here, John could say with almost certainty it was because he hadn't fixed the situation with Ana over the weekend and now he was looking for some confidence building before he finally did so. But John knew he had to try and make this quick. He had a _scheduled_ patient coming in less than an hour.

"I tried. I tried to talk to her. She avoided me all night and went home with someone else. What the hell was I supposed to do?" Christian asked, following John into his office, shutting the door behind them and going directly to his usual spot on the dark brown leather couch.

John looked at him with frustrated amusement as he put his briefcase on his desk, took out his tablet, and took his seat adjacent to Christian. "Come on, Christian. Let's not pretend like if you didn't really want to have this conversation, that you wouldn't have found a way. This is you we're talking about. You don't take no for an answer. If you didn't find some way to get to her, to insist that she listen to you, then it's because you didn't want to. The Christian Grey I have come to know very well these half a dozen years would have found a way. Now, I'm not advocating that you push if she needs space, but I'm just pointing out that maybe you've convinced yourself that you're trying harder than you really are."

"And why would I do that?" he asked, his voice dripping with derision at the notion that he was voiding this.

"Because you're scared," John said easily, clicking a pen before scribbling something down on the small notepad next to him. Christian has been seeing John long enough to know that he wasn't writing anything important. Anything important was entered into the tablet balancing on his crossed knee. John used the pen click and the scribble as a distraction, a technique to display nonchalance when he said something impactful while trying to play it off like it was nothing. Christian glared at him and his tactics.

John looked up to see the scowl on Christian's face, shook his head slightly as if dismissing his attitude, shifted position and spoke again. "You're scared of your feelings for her, and you're scared to admit it to her because you have yet to even admit it to yourself that you have them. You're scared of rejection. You're scared of change. You're scared of everything that Ana does and could represent in your life. You're scared to find out you're a warm blooded human being just like the rest of us. You're scared to find out you're normal."

"I'm not normal. And we both know there's more to this than just that, don't we John?" he said, his voice low and rough and mocking.

And there it was, exactly what John had suspected when he saw the photo of Christin's birth mother in his bedroom at the gala. His guilt about what happened between them was very real, but the friendship was helping to ebb that guilt away. Now Christian was dealing with the issue he really saw as the problem. It was an issue that was very much at the center of Christian's self-loathing, something he found truly disgusting about himself and fueled many conversations where Christian repeated over and over how fucked up he was.

"We both know the reason I'm attracted to women who look like Ana is because I am a sick fuck. Even if I could learn to believe that what happened before, that our past could be separated from everything else, we both know that there is another much more fucked up reason for why it is disgusting that I am attracted to her," he said vehemently, his eyes burning holes into the man across from him

"Do you think about your mother when you're with Ana?" John asked point blank.

"No," Christian answered immediately.

"Then it's a _non-issue _Christian. Stop focusing on the negative," he said forcefully. "You might always have issues when it comes to your birth mother. The anger, the hurt, the pain, they are all normal emotions to have and to associate with her. She was a bad mom. But you can't keep blaming her for everything bad in your life. Just like you can't keep letting her siphon out all of your happiness. You need to take responsibility for your adulthood. You need to make the active choice to not allow your past to rule your present and future. You have made significant strides in the recent past. Build on them, instead of constantly looking for ways to tear them down."

"It's not that easy—" Christian tried to argue.

"Except when it is," John said with a shrug. "Years of talking about it have done nothing for you. But somehow, Ana was miraculously able to put a little crack in your concrete control, and since then the crack has been splitting further and further open. You need to keep pushing your boundaries on all of these things that are making you so uncomfortable. Ana is making you live parts of your life you've never explored. You're Christopher Columbus embarking on the unfamiliar here, heading out into the big blue unknown and you have no idea what's going to happen. And that's good. Embrace it. Embrace her. You have no reason not to. She's been nothing but good for you."

Christian sighed, frustrated. "I'm struggling here, really struggling. I'm doing and thinking things for the first time in my life, and I'm…"

"_Scared_." John reiterated his point from the start of the conversation. Christian's head shot up with a scowl. "Say it. You're scared. That's okay, Christian. The world is scary. The unknown is scary. Bad things could happen. You could get hurt. No one is promising you won't go out there and get the heart you denying having crushed into pieces. It doesn't mean it's not worth trying. Scared is good. Scared is feelings. You need to embrace your feelings. Love is a motherfucker. I'll tell you that right now. It makes you crazy—heart pumping, sweaty palms, chest piercing, lump in your throat, sick to your stomach, dizzy-headed crazy. But it's good. It's so good. And we humans would be a sad bunch without it."

"I came here to talk about attraction, not love, John. Love isn't even on my radar."

"It needs to be. Because love is the ultimate thing you have left to embrace. From _everyone_ in your life. Elena taking a hurting boy with such a big, vulnerable heart, and teaching him that love is foolish, was the greatest disservice she did to you. And trust me, she did you many disservices. I don't push you to be cruel, Christian. I push you to encourage you, to try and help you grow. I would never push you more than I thought you could handle. You are so laser focused on these small details and what every little thing could mean, that you're missing the bigger picture. That's all I'm trying to get you to do- is look at the bigger picture. Instead of focusing on your birth mother and Ana and their similar looks and what that could mean, just accept that you have found someone whom you find physically attractive and whom you also can relate to on a deeper level. The big picture is that you're finding happiness. Don't fight it. What if you **could** find _more_ with her? I'm not saying that you for sure **do** or _will_ love her. I'm just saying to be more open to the possibility of it being out there. You are capable of much more than you give yourself credit for. You've come so far in the short time since you were first reintroduced to Ana. You're so insistent that you can't do a relationship? You didn't think you could do friendship either, but look how that's worked out for you. Maybe you need to stop focusing on what you're so sure you can't do, and try. Maybe you'll find that it's not for you, but you won't know until you try. So set sail, kid. See where life takes you."

Christian pulled a hand through his hair, his mind racing with all of John's words. He cleared his throat, straightening up, glancing at the clock. It was almost time for him to leave. He had to make his morning meeting. "I don't want to and can't deal with all of that… stuff right now John. I just want to apologize to her and get our friendship back on track. I just want to tell her I'm sorry and move the fuck on."

John used all his available will power to not reach out and throttle the man sitting across from him. It was beyond frustrating how much Christian constantly came to him for advance, yet fought tooth and nail to avoid listening to it. He usually came around eventually, but it would save them both a lot of time, and Christian a lot of money, if he would just be more receptive to expanding his preconceived limits. "I don't know her, but based off what I've gleaned form what you've told me about her, Ana is not the type of woman who will just accept a base apology over a situation like this without some base truth revealing the reason she was wronged in the first place. She's going to need to understand what motivated you to abandon her. You won't get off from this with a simple, unelaborated 'I'm sorry'."

* * *

Monday evening came quicker than Christian had expected. After a tediously slow Sunday sitting around, hoping to hear from Ana, he'd expected his Monday to feel just as long, even though he would be working. But it hadn't. The work had kept him busy, and before he knew it, it was early evening. Ana would be out of work by now, and he was determined to talk to her. Being at work was exactly what he needed. He meant what he'd told Flynn this morning. He didn't have it in him to entertain all of the new ideas his psychiatrist was pushing into his head at eight AM. He needed to handle this whole thing with Ana as cleanly as possible. A day at GEH reinforced to him exactly who he was and what he was good at. And being a strong, respected, callous CEO was what he needed to use to handle this situation. Flynn was wrong, this time. He wasn't _scared_ of anything. And this wouldn't be solved by Christian just falling to his knees and spewing confessions about his most uncomfortable thoughts. If she'd listened to him Saturday night, she likely would have gotten a pleading apology. But she hadn't wanted to listen. And now he'd had two days to work up the determination to handle this his way. Flynn had made some interesting points, and had given Christian things he knew he would be thinking about in the dead of night when he couldn't sleep, but for now, he was going to go with his instinct, and his instinct told him that treating this apology as a straight forward transaction devoid of overly emotional declarations was the way to go. Being in CEO mode all day just reinforced to him what role he was most comfortable playing, and it wasn't what Flynn suggested he be.

She'd gained influence over him during the tenure of their friendship, which he very well knew. He had really, truly stripped pieces of himself to her, and he was okay with that now. He'd made peace with the fact that gaining a true friendship with her meant he had to give her parts of himself. But he couldn't just lay back and openly expose his soft underbelly to her the way Flynn was suggesting. He'd made so many concessions for her, but baring himself completely was just too much. And yet, he **did** want to make things better. He **did** want to apologize and find a way to resolve this. He'd pissed off so many people in this life without giving it a second thought. But he'd always managed a way through those situations with his patented combination of charm, calm demeanor, and raw power. With Ana, he **did** care that he upset her, but he could still use his regular tactics to make it better.

He would keep it unemotional. He wouldn't let this escalate into a shouting match with her. He would pull together every shred of powerful CEO in him and control the situation the way he knew how. He would use his expert oratory skills to convince her that this was no big deal. He would lead this conversation. He would control it all, and steer it to a place where he felt comfortable and confident. He didn't need to offer her an explanation, like Flynn and Elliot and everyone else suggested. Christian Grey didn't explain himself to anyone. That was what he needed to do. That was who he was. Flynn was giving him too much credit. He couldn't be what everyone in his life wanted him to be. Yes, he'd made changes, and yes, he was happy with them, but he had to draw the line somewhere. And this was that place.

As he exited his office for the evening, Christian was immediately met by his ever vigilant PPO. This morning, when they'd left for GEH, Christian had grabbed the key fob to his R8 on the way out and climbed into the driver's seat once he'd reached the car. It sent the unspoken message to Taylor that he would be following him from another vehicle. He'd known from the moment he'd gotten up this morning that when he left GEH this evening he would be heading straight to her. And he knew he would want to be alone on his way to seeing her, so he'd thought ahead and had Taylor drive to work separately.

He pulled out his phone, taking a deep breath before sliding his finger over the screen to find the app he was looking for. He'd had Welch install it on his phone, but hadn't used it since the day he'd utilized it to find her at the bar quite some time ago. Her phone was the only one he'd ever tracked on it, so it was the only one saved in the app. He hesitated for just a moment before activating the location device. He needed to see her. He wouldn't last another night like last night, so he needed to fix things today.

Connecting the address given in for her location to his GPS, he received the step by step directions to her whereabouts. The drive was short, only about ten minutes, and he found himself pulling up in front of a small café. He parked his car, waiting inside of it while he watched Taylor enter the small business to do a quick sweep. It was really just a simple coffee shop that offered pastry style food, no real food menu, so it was obvious from the parking lot that it wasn't busy at the time of day when most people were enjoying their actual dinners. Still, Taylor would sweep the place first. Normally, it was so routine to wait for Taylor to do his job that Christian didn't give it a second thought. However, today was one of the rare instances he noticed how irritating it could be that he could never just, on a whim, go anywhere or do anything. A small price to pay for everything he gained in return, but still, sometimes it would be nice to just _live_. Impulse was not a word with a place in Christian's life.

He took a couple of deep breaths while he waited for the go ahead from Taylor. **Control**. That was what he would use to handle this situation. He was no longer the confused, chaotic mess he'd been on Saturday night. He was Christian Grey. And he wasn't Christian fucking Grey because he just rolled over on situations that tested him. He let out a slow, calming breath. Yes, he could do this. Piece of cake. Just like any merger or acquisition, he would get what he wanted, how he wanted it, and he would do it with the effortless aplomb he had practically invented.

When he received the nod from Taylor at the doorway, Christian exited his car and entered the building. He saw her immediately, seated at a table for two, tucked back in a quiet corner, reading what he assumed to be a manuscript from work with a cup of tea and a partially eaten muffin in front of her. She was oblivious to his arrival as she focused solely on what she was reading.

_Showtime._

He went straight for her, pulling out the chair in front of her and taking a seat immediately. She looked with a small, friendly smile, but it was immediately wiped from her face when he recognized it was him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice arctic as she set her manuscript down in front of her and marked a little star on the page with a pen.

"I needed to speak with you," he said, his tone even and strong, nonchalant. Intimidation and anger, tools he used often while in CEO mode, had no baring here. Cool confidence would get him through this. Apologize sincerely, and move on.

"Now is not a good time," she said, her eyes flitting back her to work before finding his again.

"Ana, I'm sorry you took what happened so personally," he said, looking her straight in the eye, trying to convey a sense of power as well as play it off like it wasn't such a big deal. Short and sweet. No explanation, just make it seem like she was the one who took it badly. Make her question her reaction. It will make her more willing to let it slide if she things she had some misplaced emotions about it. Ana was reasonable, and him apologizing earnestly had always worked with her in the past. This wasn't his first fuck up with her. She would forgive him this, just like she did everything else. He was sure of it.

"Was there another way to take what happened?" she asked, mockery dripping from her voice.

"Truthfully, yes," he said, inserting a well-placed, nonchalant shrug. She looked away when his eyes met hers again. "I didn't intend to hurt your feelings. It wasn't a personal attack toward you. I do sincerely apologize if you saw it that way, but I assure you it wasn't like that." There. That sounded sincere, because it _was_ sincere. Surely she could see that and they could now move on. He smiled to himself. He was quite impressed with how well he'd handled that. Now he watched her, waiting for her to accept his genuine apology. But seconds stretched on as they sat in silence.

She still had her pen in her hand and was now slowly tracing a little circle over and over and over on the side of her manuscript while they say in silence after he'd finished speaking. He felt his control slip, his jaw tick, and it took a conscious effort for him not to rip the pen out of her hand.

"Well?" he said through clenched teeth, unable to stand the silence anymore.

She sighed, setting the pen down and rubbing her palm over her eye before dropping her hand down to the table in exasperation. "Well what, Christian?"

"Do you accept my apology?" he asked, his temper flaring.

He watched her bite the inside of her cheek for just a moment before she said, "No."

"_No_?" he practically gasped, all of his control draining like the word had pulled the plug holding it inside of him.

She looked him dead in the eyes. "No. No I do not accept your apology."

"Ana," he practically hissed, speaking before thinking. "What happened wasn't as big deal as you made it seem. The dance was almost over anyway when I walked away. And after all, I paid for your dress, your jewelry, your ticket. Hell, I _paid_ to dance with you. That should have entitled me to leave when I chose to do so. You certainly didn't need to ignore me the whole rest of the night then spend the whole evening with another man before taking him home. If anything, that just made you look like—well, let's just say coming with one person and leaving with another made _you_ look bad, not me." _What? _Where had **that** come from? Holy fuck, that was not the direction he had wanted to take this, _at all_. It's not even how he _felt_ about it! Oh, this was quickly going to hell.

Ana's mouth popped open and an incredulous puff of air left her mouth. "Wow, Christian," she said, shaking her head at him in disbelief. Her eyes were angry, definitely, but more than that he saw the hurt in them. God, he didn't want to hurt her. _Again_. Why did he have to keep fucking things up? They had been doing so well. He thought he'd gotten past all this—all _his_\- bullshit with her. Why had he even thought for a second that coming in here in CEO mode would do anything but harm? Shit, he needed to do damage control. Before he could think it through, he was dropping his shoulders and his hard, controlled façade and blurting out words.

"Shit, that's not… I'm sorry, okay? I'm **so** sorry. I don't blame you for making the best of a bad situation with another guy, and I definitely didn't think twice about the money I spent. I didn't mean any of that. And I promise that I do know that what I did was a super shitty thing to do to you, but—" Fuck he'd dug himself into such a hole here… **Sympathy!** She was such a gentle soul. Playing off her sympathy for him was the only chance he had at getting her to forgive him now. And the haphephobia story was sure to garner sympathy, which, in turn, was likely to reduce her anger. So disregarding the nagging thought that was screaming at him to tell her the _truth_, he opted for the lie about the reason for abandoning her out there on the dance floor. His voice dropped lower. "I have a touch… thing. You can't- you touched my back and I just- no one can touch my chest or my back. Ask anyone- Elliot, Mia, my parents. _No one _can touch me. _You_ **did **and I panicked."

Ana frowned, a shred of the anger dissipating from her eyes. "Why can't anyone touch you?"

"It's a long story."

"That's not an answer," she spat in warning, her anger flaring back up.

"I don't want to talk about it here," he hissed. Of course she would want a detailed explanation God, he _hated_ talking about this shit. Now his mind was doing a one-eighty. This was a stupid fucking idea. He should have just told the truth. At least then he wouldn't have to rehash this fucking story about his stupid fucking childhood. "Honestly it's none of your business."

"Seriously, Christian? Fuck you!" she huffed, abruptly standing from her seat in an attempt to storm off.

"No! Wait- fuck! Ana, goddamn it, stop," he said, grabbing her arm and yanking her back down to the seat across from him. His eyes flashed around to make sure no one was watching or listening to them. Luckily the place was pretty empty and they were the only ones in this back section. Likely Taylor's doing. "Look, okay- you know my history. My mom- I've told you how she was. Well, she had this pimp who—," he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. She was looking at him, listening expectantly, intently. Too intently. Too… _understandingly_. That same soft, patient look she always had when he was sharing intimate details of his life with her. "Look, this really isn't the time for place."

"Fine Christian, just forget it," she said with a sigh, splaying her hand out on the table for a brief moment before pushing herself back up to a standing position. She shook her head slowly, grabbing her cup and her manuscript from the table and taking a few steps away from him toward the door. Fuck, was she sad now? He watched her get about ten feet away before he let out a frustrated groan and spoke.

"He used to burn me with cigarettes," he called out just loud enough for her to hear, his voice sounding defeated even to his own ears. She froze, her whole body stiffening before she turned around and looked at him, her eyes already slightly glossy with tears. He took a deep breath. "On my chest and my back. There are scars, if you want proof. No one has ever been able to touch me since. Not Grace, no one. If someone does, I freak out."

She slowly came back to the table, sitting down on the edge of the seat as she leaned toward him. "I didn't even know I touched you."

_Neither did I. _

He shrugged, not wanting to give any kind of committal answer. Fuck. Why was telling her the truth about this so hard? He'd told her so much about his past: about Elena, about his ongoing participation in the lifestyle, and now about his abuse. He'd let her in on all the deepest, darkest secrets of his life, things no one else knew, but he couldn't pull his shit together enough to tell her the truth about this. This truth about _her_.

"So I hurt you then? You left me out there because I touched you and I hurt you and you couldn't bear it?"

"No." He said it so fast. It just came out. He hadn't intended it.

"No?" she asked, looking thoroughly confused now.

He took a deep, fortifying breath before he let out a groan. Fuck. Well, it seems he was doing this.

"No. That… everything I just said was a lie."

"What?" she asked, looking more lost an ever, her head shaking back and forth as she struggled to understand. "So you don't have an issue with touch?" God, why was he making this so hard.

"No. That's not what I meant. Everything I said was the truth. My haphephobia isn't a lie. The lie is that my haphephobia is the reason I left you out on the dance floor."

"Christian, I'm confused. What's going on? What is this all about?" she asked, almost pleadingly, sounding anxious and frustrated and still quite angry.

His body suddenly felt starved for oxygen as his breathing came in short, shallow bursts. His heart was pounding in his chest. He took a deep, fortifying breath. "I'm attracted to you," he confessed, the shame and guilt a direct contract to the stoic face he wore at the beginning of their conversation.

"I'm attracted to you too, Christian," she said with a shrug. Before he could register the shock that she had so easily just casually admitted mutual attraction, something he hadn't expected, or really even considered, she said words that bewildered him. "So what?"

His eyes darted up to hers, his look incredulous. Could she not see how wrong it was? "What do you mean, 'so what'? It's horrible."

"It's horrible to be attracted to me?" asked, a small smile on her lips, her anger seemingly nonexistent, which confused him even more. "Am I that disgusting?" she teased. _Teased. _This conversation had taken a turn he couldn't even fathom.

His head shook back and forth almost violently as he put his elbow on the table and cradled his head in his hand, roughly tugged at his hair. "No. You're the furthest thing from disgusting. You're beautiful. _Breathtaking_. **I'm** disgusting."

"Why would you say that?" she asked, confused once again. He had her emotions all over the map. This is what he did to people. He was used to giving people emotional whiplash with his mercurial nature. It was often something he used to his advantage, but with her it was making him feel guilty. He was just dragging her down further into his shit, and she didn't deserve to be pulled into all of that.

"After all I put you through, you know, _before_... to want you like that _now_. It's sickening," he muttered. Half-truths, Christian. Always with the half-truths. _Tell her the full reason why being attracted to her disgusts you._

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Christian. There is nothing wrong with either of us being physically attracted to one another. I mean, you did tell me Elena brought me to you because I was your ideal type, physically, at least back then. So it's not that farfetched that you would feel attraction toward me still, now. And it's not like I'm sixteen years old anymore. We're both adults. Hell, **I** openly ogled your man-parts in your room two days ago, if anyone should be embarrassed about this topic, it's _me_." He couldn't help but smirk at the light blush that dusted her cheeks. "Though I'm not quite sure what the connection is between you feeling an attraction toward me and me getting deserted on the dance floor in a room full of strangers," she said, her good humor dropping back to a watered down version of her earlier angry self.

He groaned, rubbing his temples with his fingers for a moment. "You want the truth?"

She let out a scoffing laugh. "That would be nice. A novel idea, I know. But yes, I would like the truth if you're capable of giving it to me."

"The truth is, I have been struggling with the idea of being attracted to you. I have been fighting it off like the plague, because I convinced myself it was wrong because of what happened between us. And I did feel that way, for a while, but many sessions with my psychiatrist got me to start seeing past it, to stop seeing you as the sixteen year old Anastasia who I had mistreated, and to start seeing you as the twenty-two year old Ana who I had built a friendship with. So over the months, I've more or less made peace with our past and how I related my attraction to you, to it."

He paused to collect himself and to see if she had any comments or questions, but she just nodded, motioning for him to go on.

"But there is a deeper, more horrific reason why it is disgusting that I am attracted to you, and it had nothing to do with _you_, per say." She looked at him confused. Another deep breath. "Through therapy, I uncovered a long time ago that there is a very dark, disturbing piece of me that is really the center of a lot of my self-loathing. I know I'm fucked up, **so**fucked up. I always have been. But this bit of information about me, it's my darkest secret Ana."

She shuffled slightly in her chair, the only sign that she was uneasy with what he was about to share. "The reason BDSM holds such an appeal for me, the reason I like to punish women… It all stems from my childhood. Every single one of my subs has been petite with long brown hair and pale skin. I like to fuck and beat little brown haired women because they all look like my birth mother. In the recesses of my brain, I am punishing them for what she did to me, in a way I could never punish her, because she's dead. So when I was out on that dancefloor with you, and the overwhelming attraction hit me, I left you because I was disgusted with myself for putting thoughts of you in that dark part of my brain. I didn't ever want to categorize you like I did all the other women in my life, because you and your friendship have come to mean so much more to me than all of that."

"You fuck women who look like your mom?" she squeaked out in surprise, her face desperately trying to remain stoic but her eyes full of questions, of uncertainty, of abhorrence.

He hated it. He hated himself for it. But in the end, it was the truth. "Yes."

"That's…" she said, letting out a low, slow breath. "I don't know how to feel about that Christian. I mean, ultimately, it's none of my business so it's not my place to judge. But…"

"I know," he said, defeated.

Her eyes widened a little. "Is that why you were so vicious with me that night? Because I was the first time you'd ever gotten a chance to take out your mommy-issues on someone else?"

He winced hard. He felt the bile rising in his throat at her words. Vicious. _Mommy issues_. She was repulsed by him. She would never look at him the same again. He was going to lose her friendship because he was such a sick fuck. He attempted to swallow back the lump in his throat. "Partially. It was also because I was new to the scene. I wasn't trained properly and I did things no Dom should ever do to his sub. But a large part of it, I'm sure, had to do with my mommy issues, as you put it. I didn't know it then. I didn't know why I was drawn to women of that physical appearance until after I unintentionally mentioned something about brunettes to my psychiatrist over a year later and he ended up digging all of this shit up. But I know how it looks. I know how you must see me now. I know I'm a terrible person. I tried to warn you before. So I understand if you hate me for it. Lord knows I hate myself for it."

Christian couldn't bear to look her in the eyes, so he sat silently, motionless as he stared at the table in front of him. He anticipated her standing up and leaving any moment now. Seconds, minutes ticked by, but it felt like hours that they sat there in silence.

Finally her soft voice spoke in barely a whisper. "I don't _hate_ you Christian."

His mournful eyes finally looked up to meet hers. She was looking at him with those bright baby blues, shimmering with a gloss of unshed tears. "You don't?"

"_No_." She bit her bottom lip, then shuffled her shoulders while she thought about what to say. She licked her lips briefly before she spoke, "We all have baggage. Yours might be… a little heavier than some, but we all have loads we carry with us. I've told you from the beginning that I believed you to be a good man. And that hasn't changed. I may not understand all your… proclivities, but what they are and why you have them has no bearing on my feelings about what kind of a person you truly are in your heart. That's your cross to bear and I have no right to dismiss your entire person over something that stems from psychological trauma you suffered in your childhood. I value our friendship more than that."

"So, you still want to continue this friendship?" he asked, unbelieving that she was capable of looking past the monster he'd just exposed himself as.

"I do," she said, albeit hesitantly. "But I'm going to need some time to digest all of this. I'm still angry and hurt about how you treated me Saturday. And as much as I appreciate you finally being honest with your explanation, it doesn't override the fact that you treated me like garbage when I did nothing wrong and definitely didn't deserve it. I can't keep being the doormat you use to wipe your dirt off on just to protect your own shoes. I care about our friendship, but it's felt one-sided more often than not, here. I need some time to regroup, and I think you could benefit with a little time to yourself to try and sort out what it is this friendship means to you and your life. I need to know you can push past all of these issues of yours and see me for me. Not as the girl who subbed for you. Not as a doppelganger for your… mom," she said, her voice dropping and hitching a little as she said the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She shook her head and sighed. "I just think we both need a little time to reevaluate all the really heavy things we've uncovered about each other these last few months. We've placed a lot on each other's shoulders in a short time, and I think we need to redistribute the weight before it crushes us both. I like our friendship and I would miss it if it ended. I want to do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Ana, these last couple of days killed me. I don't want to have more downtime from our friendship," he said softly, the sincerity in his voice almost painful.

"But I need it," she said with a sigh.

"How long?" he asked.

"I'm not sure exactly. Not long. Just, give me a couple of days, okay? Just to get my thoughts straightened out and everything. We can still text, or email, or whatever. I'm not cutting you out completely. Just give me a couple days to sort my head out before we talk again."

He stayed silent for a moment before he sighed. "Okay."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a tight smile. He tried to return it, but couldn't. He was not happy with the way this whole thing had gone. It could have been worse. Way worse. But he still hated that she needed time just to cope with being his friend. It intensified his self-loathing. To her core, she was a happy, centered, and easy going person, and he and his bullshit were dragging her down. Just like with everything good and pure in his life, he was afraid of ruining her. It was why he didn't open up to his family, why he'd only ever trusted himself with someone else dark, like Elena, and why he never brought a woman into his life under any pretense other than a contractual sexual relationship. But he was in this too far with her to walk away now. He wanted her friendship, needed it even. And he could do what she asked if it meant keeping her in his life, giving him that taste of normalcy he didn't know he craved so badly until he became reacquainted with her.

He watched her stand, slowly taking her pen and manuscript off the table, then grabbing the partially eaten muffin and her empty tea cup. "Bye, Christian," she said softly.

"Bye," he said quietly, only looking up when she'd passed him by, watching her walk away from him and out the door.


	15. Chapter 15

Christian sat in front of his piano, pressing the keys in a haphazard manner like a child would who was seeing a real piano for the first time. He didn't even have it in him to play any real music. He just sat in front of it and pressed random keys as the moonlight shone down over him through the wall length glass windows adjacent to him.

One week.

It had been one week since he'd seen Ana. She'd texted, checking in on him, for the first two days. On the third day, she called to inquire about the whereabouts of her car. _What could be so messed up on it that they would have it for __**this **__long? _The ensuing conversation, where he had to tell her that he's disregarded her wishes and had more than the bare minimum work done, had spiked a heated argument where she's rattled off the list of things he'd done to defy her wishes before hanging up on him. And all he'd told her was that he was having some safety features upgraded, not that he'd had Wanda stripped to her bones and rebuilt from the ground up. The subsequent four days had been radio silent from her.

He hated not talking to her, hated the thought of her being upset with him. It made his stomach feel empty and heavy at the same time. He hated that this rift between them was dealt from his own hand. It was frustrating to not have control over the situation. Not that he wanted to control her. He wanted to learn how to navigate this friendship the right way. But still, deep down, he missed the control he once felt over all aspects of his life.

Rising from his piano bench, he strode up the stairs and to the place in his home which now held mixed feelings for him. His playroom used to be the one place on this earth where he was given omnipotent control. More often than not, GEH was a place demonstrative of his power, but there were some things even he could not control in business. Some deals fell through, other people influenced decisions, some things were out of his hands. But in his playroom, he had supreme rule. He said who, what, when, where, why and how without question. And on the rare occasion where one of his rules was broken, he was given full authority to induce punishment for the offense as he saw fit. His every whim was law within these four walls.

He missed it. BDSM was tied to so many things in his life. It proved to be one of the few happinesses he'd known in his adult life. Turning GEH into a continually growing powerhouse was one thing he truly loved to do and found joy in. His hobbies—soaring, Charlie Tango, and sailing, also provided happiness, but were things he rarely had time for in his busy schedule. But his playroom, it was something that always been a very pleasurable outlet for him. The control and the sex were both things he enjoyed greatly, but when combined, they were a tremendous bright spot in his otherwise dark and dreary life.

But now Ana was another prominent happiness in his life. And unfortunately, Ana was tied to part of his BDSM history that he hated. Elena and Ana were the introduction to and biggest regret of his BDSM past. All of his contracted subs were women who knew what BDSM was, were fully informed and completely willing participants. BDSM, when performed correctly, was truly something to behold. Truly something he'd loved once he was solely in control of it in his own life. He liked to think that even if Elena had never propositioned him, if she had always remained his mother's friend Mrs. Lincoln, that at some point he would have found BDSM and would have ended up where he was now just the same. It was exactly what he'd always needed in his life. Not the way he'd been introduced to it, not in the context of how Elena had used it to manipulate him for years. But real BDSM appealed to him just the same. The ability to connect physically without threat of being touched. The mind blowing sex. The control. The power. The confidence. That was who he was and what he had always needed. Whether he'd found it at 15 or 22 or 29, he liked to think that he would have found it somehow, regardless.

But the truth was, was that he'd been coerced into it as a teenager. He didn't like it. He wasn't proud of it. But that was his history. And just because it was thrust upon him in a repulsive manner did not negate the fact that he was glad to have found it. It centered him in a way that nothing else in his life ever had. When his mind was a jumbled mess, Domination brought everything into focus. When life was falling apart around him, Domination pieced things back together. To control a woman's body, to alter her state of mind in such a profound way was heady to him. Every deliberate touch. Every calculated stroke. Every little thing _planned_ to the minutest little detail and executed to perfection. It literally thrilled him.

God, he really did miss it.

On the occasions in the recent past that he'd ask himself why he hadn't had a sub in so long, his immediate answer would be to shrug it off and blame it on being busy. But deeper inside, he'd then question that answer, because his norm was to require a sub the _most_ while busy. BDSM was his way of relieving life's stresses. And he couldn't lie to himself and say he hadn't had stresses during his previous sub-less months. He'd utilized exercise more than anything to cope with stress in that time.

More than_ anything?_

No, that was another lie he tried to tell himself that he knew wasn't true. He spent time with Ana. Being around Ana made him less stressed- even completely eliminated it, at least during the times they were actively together. Ana calmed him, Ana made him happy. The friendship, finding his place for the first time in what was a norm for most of society- that was a big part of it. Having those new things to focus on helped take his focus off whatever else he was dealing with in his life. But it was Ana who made those things possible for him, so it was she who got the nod as his current de-stressor.

But tonight Ana wasn't here. She hadn't been, for the last week. And that was on him, he knew. He didn't blame for her needing space. It was all part of the give and take of their friendship, and he respected that.

But he was stressed. Work was hectic, his bonds with her were currently strained. Bastille had kicked his ass seven ways to Sunday just hours earlier. And so now, here he was, thinking of the only other way he knew to handle it all.

He stood in the center of his playroom, scenes with past subs playing out before his eyes. Slim, pale brunettes hanging from the carabiners, secured to the St. Andrew's cross, face-down-ass-up on the red sheeted bed, on their knees by the door. All breathless, panting, sporting bright magenta patches on various parts of their bodies courtesy of his flogger, his cane, his paddle, his whip, his hand.

He groaned.

And it became crystal clear, what he needed.

Without a second thought, he was descending the flight of stairs, calling for Taylor, and taking the elevator to the parking garage.

"Where to, sir?" he asked, his eyes meeting Christian's in the rearview mirror.

"Underground."

Taylor nodded. If he had any opinion, his face didn't show it. Not that Christian expected him to. He never did. A part of him wished he could have just driven himself there and done this alone, but he knew with regard to the bigger picture, having Taylor accompany him was paramount. The last thing in the world he wanted was to be linked to BDSM, and the most likely reason he could be is by being outed while visiting a club. So having Taylor as backup on the off chance that something would go down while he was there was important.

The drive wasn't long, and ten minutes later Taylor was pulling up to the back entrance of the club. Christian nodded at him in the mirror. He'd made a phone call on the way over, informing them of his boss's impending arrival and was assured of the on staff security for the evening. He knew the staff there well, and trusted their discretion. He would be in direct contact with their head of security all evening, and would be in the car and available at a moment's notice should any problems arise inside.

With his head down, Christian exited the car and swiftly made his way to the steel door. He didn't even need to knock, seeing as the door swung open the moment he stepped within reach of it.

A tall, bulky man with long dirty blonde hair tied back into a slick pony tail stood in the opening for a moment, assessing him before stepping out of the way. "Mr. Grey," his gruff voice greeted.

Christian gave him only a nod. He knew him by face, not by name. It dawned on Christian for the first time ever, that it was odd that he didn't know the man's name. He was the security head for the club. He'd worked here for as long as Christian had been coming here. Granted, he was usually on a mission when coming here and cared about little else outside of finding a sub and securing a scene. But that was no excuse to not know the man's name who was tasked with keeping his identity safely secured while he was here. It felt rude to ask now, so he resolved to inquire about his name to Taylor later, then maybe send the guy some kind of token to express his appreciation for the all the years he'd worked extra hard to protect Christian's name.

He was flanked almost immediately from his left by another familiar face. Mistress Gabrielle, one of the club part owners and managers, stood strong and confidently next to him, a welcoming smile set on her face. "Mr. Grey, it's so nice to see you again. The usual set up this evening?"

_The usual_. One of the reasons he loved this place was their very accommodating nature. The usual, for him, included a private room set up with his specific set of tools with photocopies of his standard paperwork printed from the file they'd been given so he didn't have to bring his own. He would be shown security monitors of the submissives in attendance for the evening, choose one who appealed to him, and then she would be approached by staff, given a copy of his limits, and asked whether or not she were interested in sceneing with the interested party. If she said yes, she was given the NDA to sign, then brought into the private room to meet him. They'd discuss her limits and safewords, and then the scene would begin. It was streamlined and efficient for all parties involved, and helped protect his anonymity as much as possible.

"Please," he nodded, following her to the security office where he would look for a sub.

His eyes flitted across the six screens that showed the main room where people were milling about. Doms, subs, and casual observers were informally chatting or drinking in pairs, small groups, or some just alone. There were another dozen or so monitors, each showing scenes from the public rooms. The private rooms were outfitted with only microphones, so that there was no physical recording of the activities inside, but they could still be monitored for the safety of all parties involved. Dungeon masters were stationed at key areas, providing a firm physical reminder of the rules for everyone, and ready to intervene as necessary at a moment's notice. The club had a very high reputation, and the last thing they wanted was to have someone hurt on the off chance that someone abused their power in a private room. Years ago, while training in a less reputable club, a well-known Dominant ignored the safewords of a young submissive in a private room. The scene turned from BDSM to rape in an instant. Christian made the decision then and there to never just trust a random club again. He'd learned, since, that most places weren't so lax as that one had been. Patron safety was the absolute top priority at most. And Christian held great value in the stance on safety for all parties involved.

He watched the monitors for a minute, taking stock of the women available to meet his needs for this evening, eager to find one who caught his attention. He felt the excitement vibrating within him. His fingers itched to work, to touch someone, to control them. His eyes flited from woman to woman, but none of them grabbed his interest for more than a second. When he reached the last person on the last monitor, he started over, letting his gaze linger a little longer on each available woman. Still, no one stood out. He felt a fission of disappointment run through him, but quickly tried to shake it off. Taking in a slow breath, he closed his eyes for a moment to regroup. His eyes found the monitors to look again. Perhaps if he lower his standards this time around…

But a voice in the back of his mind was already telling him how asinine of a thought that was. He'd always walked into this room, selected his sub, and got on with his night. On the occasions that he participated in one-night-only scenes, he didn't strictly need his preferred physical appearance to select a sub. He still preferred a petite woman, and would likely choose a brunette verses a blonde or redhead if one was available, but he didn't make his selections as particularly as he did for his long term contracts. So any one of these subs would be more than sufficient for one night's needs. He didn't need to 'lower his standards'. That thought itself was incredibly insulting to the beautiful women who waited in that room. So whatever was keeping any of them from appealing to him wasn't on _them_, it was on _him_. He felt like an overinflated balloon from which someone suddenly let out the air—the intense desire to be here and scene had rushed out of him so suddenly it left him reeling.

His lips turned down in the corners, his brow creasing at the revelation that as excited as he was a moment ago to find a woman and control her to orgasm, he suddenly was quite unsure about going through with it.

The confusion and tension rose steadily in him at these thoughts filled him back up to the brim, and the rush of the sudden apprehension to the situation he was in hit him as the security guys and Mistress Gabrielle awaited his decision. The longer he stared at the monitors, the less he wanted to be here, and the more he felt the deafening silence in the room as they waited on his decision. His eyes landed on a woman who he's seen only moments ago conversing with a Dom. She was waiting with her head bowed, sitting up straight and unmoving on the couch. Trying to save face, he tapped her image on the screen, indicating that he was choosing her as his companion for the evening, knowing she wasn't available to him.

But he was fooling no one. Mistress Gabrielle looked at him confusion. Her head cocked just slightly to the side before she said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey, but I do believe she is spoken for this evening?" It came out a question, but he knew the question was at his behavior rather than at the sub's availability. He knew how things ran, knew how to read the room and tell who was open to a scene and who was promised to another Dom.

"I'd like to observe their scene then," he said, his voice regaining confidence that he wasn't feeling.

_Observe._ Christian Grey never _observed_. Christian Grey participated. Christian Grey _dominated_. He hadn't _observed_ a scene in half a decade.

But he had to do something. He'd come here. He'd come here to play, but instead of the excitement he'd felt at the idea when he'd left Escala, now he was nothing but uncertain.

"Yes, Mr. Grey," Mistress Gabrielle nodded, though her tone of voice was still laced with confusion. "I shall inquire about whether or not they intend to share a private or public room."

She exited the room, her figure stepping into the monitor frame moments later as she approached the brunette on the couch, who had since been joined by the Dom from before. Mistress Gabrielle and the Dom spoke back and forth for a brief amount of time, then he spoke with the sub, then back to Mistress Gabrielle again before she retreated, heading back into the security office.

Fuck, he hoped they'd said no. He didn't really want to watch them. He'd just said the first thing that came to mind to fill the awkward silence when he'd been caught lost in his own deep thoughts. Something to buy him some time while he decided if participating in a scene was what he really wanted to do this evening.

Mistress Gabrielle stepped back into the room, making sure the door was securely closed before turning to him and speaking. "They'd intended on a private session, but they have agreed to do a semi-private scene. They have a long standing arrangement but have never scened in a public forum before. The submissive has always kept public sceneing as a soft limit. I assured them only one person would be watching, as the Dom requesting to view them was in need of the utmost discretion. She has agreed to it for this evening as long as only one person is to watch from the viewing chamber. She is acquiescing to pushing this limit tonight for her Dom."

Unwilling to leak anymore insight into tonight's uncharacteristic demeanor by risking speaking and exposing himself in some unforeseeable way, Christian simply nodded. He let Miss Gabrielle lead him back out of the security office and down the hall to the public viewing rooms. She ushered him into a small room with eight black leather chairs set in two stadium seating rows of four. A large, blacked out, floor to ceiling window was in front of the seats. He knew from experience at these clubs that a wall switch would be flicked, turning on a speaker connected from there room to his viewing chamber, as well as changing the blackened window into a one-way mirror: he would see the scene from his side, but the pair behind the window would see only themselves reflected back at them on their side.

He hadn't intended to watch. Asking to watch had strictly been an excuse to distract from his obvious discomfort in the security room. So he'd planned to sit in this quiet room with the window still blacked out. This room was set for ambiance, the lighting very dim. He had no need for that. Seeing a second switch on the wall, he flicked it on, hoping to light the viewing room fully.

"…nervous," he heard the female voice resound through his space immediately. Surprise overtook him. It wasn't a light switch, but instead a switch used only for sound. So the viewers could opt to watch but not listen, listen but not watch, or do both. He'd never seen a room set up in that way before. He almost flicked it back off right away, but paused at the sound of the man responding to the female.

"Nervous-excited or nervous-apprehensive?" the male voice asked.

"Both, I think."

"You know I've got you though, right? This is new, letting someone watch what we have always done behind closed doors. But it's just one person. And I could give a fuck what he thinks about you or me or what we do together. This is just you and me here in this room, Della. If at any moment you feel like you don't like it anymore, you just safeword and it stops, okay?"

"Yes," the female voice responded.

"As always, I appreciate your submission, Della. I am so proud of you for pushing this limit with me."

"Yes, thank you, sir. I trust you and it's my honor to submit to you," she said, her voice still unsure.

Christian flicked the other switch then, the mirror becoming transparent and the room and its occupants becoming visible to him. He watched the Dom lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his subs lips, the reassurance of the gesture conspicuously blooming through her.

He watched the air of the room change subtly, and in those brief moments he'd seen a side to BDSM he hadn't seen in years. He'd seen the connection he knew some Dom/subs held, one that he'd seen before while training properly after Elena, but one he'd never desired for even a moment for himself. There was potential for great intimacy in BDSM if you were open to it. He'd never been. But in this moment, he found it intriguing.

So he sat. He sat and watched as the Dom put the sub on her knees, picked out a flogger for her, then moved her to the bed. He laid her down, flogged every inch of her skin. She remained perfectly still, perfectly quiet as her light skin turned an amazing shade of pink, attesting to the skill of the Dom. He occasionally whispered barely audible encouragements to her, placing kisses on her lips in reassurance, telling her how much she was pleasing him and how proud of her he was. The Dom's voice was so quiet, Christian was pretty sure the comments were never met to reach his ears in the viewing room, despite the fact that the microphones picked them up clearly. As much as the scene interested him, Christian found himself completely unaffected by it in any sort of sexual sense. He felt like he was learning a lesson, though he was very unsure what that lesson was supposed to be. And as he witnessed the Dom hook his fingers in the panties of his sub in preparation of sliding them off and taking fully what was his, Christian rose from his seat and flicked off the window and the speaker. Whether he was watching or not, they wouldn't know. The point was moot. What was happening between them was for them, greater submission and greater control. A greater strength to their bond.

He'd had great bonds with subs. He'd experienced the height of what BDSM could be with the limits he'd set in place for himself and his submissives. The physical pleasure had exceeded all expectations throughout the years, the control had been absolute. For what he required of BDSM, he'd gotten a full return on his investment there, and then some.

But now, now there was a reason for him to believe there was more out there that he could enjoy. And it wasn't related to **his** BDSM world.

He'd always know, and the sentiment had just been reiterated to him, that intimacy was definitely achievable within BDSM relationships. So, yes, he could endeavor to reconcile both idea, and attempt to find someone who he could bond with intimately while still participating in the lifestyle he'd been accustomed to for so long. Perhaps he could contact a previous submissive of his own, someone who had told him that she had felt bonded to him in a way he hadn't at the time. Maybe if he made himself open to that idea now, he would find the duality he was looking for in his life.

_Or_.

Maybe he could try something completely new. Maybe he could take this newfound desire to explore his personal emotional boundaries and really run with it. He was on a precipice right now, this whole new world in front of him. Dabbling in exploring 'more' simultaneously _with_ BDSM would likely serve to keep him strictly teetering on the edge, still clinging to the safety of everything he found comfortable, of the only lifestyle he'd ever known. When deep down, he knew he needed to jump.

He _wanted_ to jump.

Intimacy.

That was what he was missing; what he'd _always_ been missing. Something he'd never wanted, but now… did. At least enough to explore it, experience it. If he didn't like it, if it wasn't for him, he could always go back to what he knew so well, and at least then would be going back with the finality of knowing that he was always right—'more' wasn't an option for him. But, didn't he owe it to himself to make sure? Didn't he owe it to himself to at least try before writing it off, now that he knew he was capable of so much more than he ever thought he could be? It seemed so, to him. BDSM wasn't going anywhere. It would be here waiting for him if he decided to come back. But right now, what he was craving was not complete control, but instead, something new. Something that had always been elusive to his life.

With a renewed sense of calm, Christian left the viewing room, encountering Mistress Gabrielle just outside of the door.

"Mr. Grey!" she said, obviously surprised to see him so quickly, "Was the scene not to your expectation?"

"No, it was just what I needed," he said, flashing a genuine smile to put her at ease. "Please wait until they have finished, then simply tell them I am most appreciative of them for allowing me to view their private session."

"Yes, Mr. Grey," she smiled politely and nodded, confusion still visible in her eyes. "Are you looking to participate in a session of your own now? We have still been holding your private room."

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I will be leaving now. But as always, I appreciate the exemplary service."

And with that he left out the back exit, finding Taylor right where he left him in the parking lot.

"Something wrong, sir?" Taylor asked, probably assuming the short time he was in the building as being indicative of an issue either within the club, or an urgent matter at GEH that had called his attention away.

"Not at all, Taylor. Escala, please," he said, easing back into his seat. A night's sleep would do him well, and then tomorrow, he could begin to tackle the next step.

* * *

"I'm going to go on a date." The silence in the room left him to only hear the dull thumping of his own blood in his ears. When he finally chanced a look at his psychiatrist, he couldn't help but scowl at the shit-eating grin he was wearing on his face. The silence continued until he finally spoke again. "Well, fucking say something. I'm not paying you to sit here and fucking grin at me."

"Have you already asked Ana, or are you here to have me gear you up for that?"

"I'm not asking Ana," he said, already irritated that that was the first place John went with this news. Truthfully he'd expected the overtly happy reaction. But making this about Ana again was just pissing him off. This was about him. Not him and Ana.

"Why not?" John asked, attempting but not succeeding in hiding his disappointment.

Christian ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it from the roots in frustration. "Because, I've told you, we're just friends." He let that statement hang in the air for a moment before taking a fortifying breath and continuing. "I've never considered more with Ana, because that's not what our relationship is. I've truthfully never so much as entertained the idea of more with her. I can't risk what I have with her. If I try this—_dating_\- and it doesn't work for me, I can't let her be a casualty in my life as a result of me needing to test the waters of being normal. This is me experimenting with my life. She's not… a _tool_ for me to use in my experiment. If dating doesn't work for me, I need to know I still have what does. Ana is tested and proven to be a positive step forward in my life. I'm not going to risk that, risk her, by making her my trial run." Another long moment of silence, then he straightened back up, once again concealing his innermost turmoil. "We're just friends," he said with finality, locking eyes with Flynn as if to prove he was resolute in this fact.

John's smile fell, but his face was not that of disappointment. It was of genuine understanding and compassion. "I'm sorry for putting any kind of undesirable pressure on you about this topic, Christian. Maybe it's the romantic in me that would love to see you two end up together after all the light she has brought to your world, but in the end, it has to feel right for you. Maybe that **itself** is entirely too much pressure on you at this stage in the game. And that was a mistake on my part, to keep urging you to pursue her as ardently as I have, and for that, I apologize. So you're right, maybe what you really need is to date someone where there is no pressure. Losing Ana's friendship would be too great a loss for you. Whether you're ignoring any potential between you two in order to protect your friendship, or things are as you've been saying they are, and there is nothing more to you two than friendship, it doesn't matter at this stage in the game. Because I now agree that the logical next step is to take a woman out, one who you do not have any emotional ties to yet, and try a simple date. So my suggestion is to either think of someone you've encountered who you'd found attractive or who had a pleasant personality, or even have someone set you up on a blind date."

Christian nodded, his sense of confidence returning as John's affirmations. "I don't know who it will be yet. I just know that for the first time ever, I am willing to try."

"I'm impressed Christian. I'm impressed with the great strides you've made as of late. I'm impressed with your newly improved emotional self-awareness. I'm happy to see you grow. It shouldn't, given the professional nature of our relationship, but it gives me great personal pleasure to watch you grow."

Christian shot him the closest thing John had ever seen to an embarrassed look on his face. Praise. John had made a point to give him praise for the entirety of their profession relationship. It was something Christian needed to hear, because he always dismissed it, never thinking he was deserving of it. But John always handed it out when appropriate, hoping one day he would be able to accept it. This is was one of the few times in all of their years together where he could recall Christian being embarrassed by his words. And embarrassment meant that on some level, he was acknowledging that the words might be true.

"I've spent years wondering if we would ever break through to this side of you. I worried that it would never happen. Yet, here we are, on the edge of embracing what you would deem 'normal'. You have some ways to go, and a big part of that is going to require you to take leaps of faith and keep trying to do these things which are well outside of the limits of your comfort zone. But I have faith that you will get there. And I am very positive that once you allow your life to take that turn, you will eventually find true happiness. It may not be tomorrow, or next week, or next year. After all, love is hard even for the most well-adjusted of us, so it may take some time for you to find someone you want to put it all on the line for. But now, more than ever, I am confident that one day you will find someone worth risking it all. You will find happiness, acceptance and love. And I just hope I get an invite to the wedding."

Images of that life flashed through Christian's mind—him in a tux at his wedding, a wife, a house on the sound, _kids_… He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. That was all so foreign. And in this moment, too much to even comprehend. He wasn't sure that those things could _ever_ be something he'd want, and regardless, they were light years away even if they could. But for the images to even exist in his mind. For the possibilities, no matter how distant, to seem like eventual options? It was all a testament to how much his life was changing. And as truly terrifying as it may be, he couldn't help the twinge of happiness in his chest at the idea that if things fell into place, maybe even _he_ could find happiness in normalcy.


	16. Chapter 16

He was nervous.

It took a lot to make Christian Grey nervous, but if something could do it, it would be dating. His date, Cara, had been a spur of the moment choice. He'd left Flynn's office confident in his decision to do this. He'd jogged to his appointment that day, as he often did, and decided on the jog home to stop in for an iced coffee about a block away from Escala. He'd been in line behind a pretty little brunette, and high on his self-affirming session with John, he'd initiated an exchange of pleasantries, offered to pay for her drink, and indulged in a little small talk while they waited for their drinks to be made. She'd known who he was, the recognition evident in her eyes when he'd introduced himself by name. And she'd obviously been attracted to him, giving him the once over most women did when they saw him. But she'd maintained dignity as they spoke. She seemed smart, confident and sweet, not relying on flirty looks or puffing out her chest to get his attention. So, full of reinforced confidence and high adrenaline from his run, he'd made a split second decision to jump in head first, and asked the girl out.

She'd said yes.

He'd asked a girl out on a date and she'd said yes. He'd felt triumphant. He'd handed her his card, and before he was even home, he had a text waiting for him with her number. He'd suggested an early dinner at a very casual restaurant, midweek, around six, a recommendation made by Flynn; something less traditional and low pressure, at a time and place where the paparazzi were less likely to be swarming. She'd agreed. It was simple. He was thrilled. He would do this. He _could_ do this.

That was a couple of days ago, though. Now he was just nervous. Anxious and tense. His personality was a one-eighty from what it had been in the coffee shop. His unease had him relying on hold habits to get him through. He was quiet and impassive as a way to hide his nerves.

The car ride was virtually silent. He'd picked her up at her apartment, greeted her with the polite courtesy of a well-seasoned doorman. He hadn't missed the look of happy ease slip from her face, changing to a look of confusion when she saw his inexpressive, professional demeanor. He was already fucking this up and they were less than five minutes in. Cue the first signs of self-loathing.

Once arriving at the restaurant, he helped her into her seat, accepting her 'thank you' before taking his own. He reached for the wine menu, saying, "I called ahead ordered us the catch of the day, an Alaskan Halibut. They are known for their sea food here."

He caught a glimpse of her over the top of the wine menu and her mouth was turned down in a frown. "You ordered for me?"

"Yes," he confirmed. This place was small and casual, but much underrated. Their seafood could rival the most prestigious restaurants in Seattle. The halibut was easily the best thing on the menu, so it was a no brainer to order it. Plain and simple.

"What if I don't like halibut?" she asked, like it was uncommon to want such a meal. It's not like he ordered her liver and onions for Christ's sake.

"You will, trust me," he said with finality. Did she not trust his taste? He was the one who knew this place; therefore he was the one knowledgeable about their best dishes. He'd taken Ana here before and ordered them both the halibut and she'd done the same thing; complained about not getting to order her own food. But she'd tried it and of course loved it. Cara just needed to try it, and then she would see, just like Ana.

The waiter came, greeting them, taking Christian's wine order, confirming their meals were currently being prepared, and was gone. And that left… them. Him and this women, who he knew nothing about save her name, what type of coffee she drank, and that she apparently had a weird thing about halibut. His mind really registered the scene. Him and her. Just them, one-on-one, and he didn't think the situation could be more uncomfortable. This was all so foreign and nerve-wracking it actually made his stomach turn. What had he gotten himself into?

Silence.

It was thick in the air, choking him like poisonous gas. He took a sip from the filled wine glass as soon as the waiter poured it. A distraction, liquid courage… whatever he was using it for, he was happy to have it in front of him now.

"So tell me about your family."

He looked up at her, seeing the awkward, tight smile on her face as she reached for her glass of wine as well. His family? "What about them?" he asked, setting his glass down, confused about the question.

She shrugged uncomfortable under his stare again. He tried to lessen the intensity of his features, but it was difficult. He wasn't used to being questioned like this, and his instinct was to bristle when he was feeling interrogated. "I don't know. Do you have any siblings?"

He nodded. "A brother and a sister."

"Are you close?" she prodded when he didn't elaborate.

"Decently so," he said with a tight nod.

She gave a small smile. "I have a half-sister, but she lives in Illinois so I hardly get to see her. We try to talk often, but it's hard. Life is busy, you know?"

He nodded. More silence. Shit. Should he ask her a question? Was he supposed to care about her siblings and shit like that? The topic felt odd. Shouldn't they be talking about something more meaningful? Something that helped dictate whether or not they were compatible. Surely anything they would discover about each other's family would not be indicative of whether or not they were well-matched. Shouldn't they talk about politics, religion, those sorts of things? The silence loomed as he stressed over what he was supposed to be doing or saying.

He was offered a brief reprieve as the waiter came, placing their plates in front of them with professional discretion. Christian thanked him, declining the need for anything else at the moment. Thankful for the newest distraction, he reached for his fork, cutting off a small piece of the white fish and taking a bite. Perfect. Just like he knew it would be. He glanced up to see if Cara was eating, a knowing look on his face already. Now she would see why he was in the right to order for them ahead of time.

But she wasn't eating yet. She was watching him, but sat unmoving. He raised a sharp brow at her, and he eyes hit the table. Almost hesitantly, she reached for her fork, pushing the side of green beans around, finally spearing one with her fork, but not takin a bite. She cleared her throat lightly. "That's where I'm from originally. Illinois, I mean. A suburb of Chicago. I relocated here for work. Are you from Seattle originally?"

Her lack of willingness to eat gone from his mind for the moment, he felt his jaw tick, his demeanor frosting. Why was she pushing this of all the topics… did she know? She'd know who he was when he'd introduced himself. His history _was_ a matter of public record. Maybe she was pressing him on this intentionally…

No, no. He willed himself to calm down. She seemed nice enough. It was unlikely she knew about his past. It was an unfortunate coincidence that she was asking about the one fucking thing he definitely didn't want to speak about.

He gritted his teeth, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "No," he replied. Elaborating would open a whole can of worms he most definitely wasn't willing to face.

She let out a little sigh. He could sense her discomfort. It was palpable. He hadn't done a sufficient job masking his irritation at her questions. To anyone else, these were probably completely normal topics of discussion. To him, they were an intrusive nightmare. Part of the fucking reason he didn't fucking date. He felt anger swelling in his belly at the realization that he'd underestimated his past's ability to fuck this up. He hadn't even considered how he would handle this kind of probing from someone he didn't even know. It was torture. He watched her, head down, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. She'd hardly touched it since the waiter had set it down in front of her.

"Are you going to actually eat?" he barked, his tone rougher than he'd intended as a result of his inner anger at himself. Her eyes went wide, darting away from his as soon as they connected, snapping back to her plate. Gently raised the fork, the single bean still skewered to its tines, and placed it tentatively in her mouth. He rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair. What a disaster.

* * *

They'd been sitting in this awkward silence for nearly ten minutes. He'd practically inhaled his fish, having nothing better to do with his mouth than eat. Every time he spoke, he only seemed to make the evening worse, so it was better for him to remain silent than attempt to say anything at all. He'd watched her slowly and methodically eat her beans, one by one, until that little wedge on her dinner plate had been emptied. Her fish still sat whole, and it was starting to grate on him, but he didn't dare mention it again.

His attention was pulled away when he felt his phone vibrate, pulling it out to check the text he'd received. It was from Taylor:

**Sir, Miss Steele's car is ready. Let me know how you would like the drop off handled.**

Christian smiled lightly to himself. Good. He hadn't seen or even properly spoken to Ana in what felt like an eternity. So this gave him a reason to reach out to her with something other than the bullshit he'd been offering lately.

Looking at his phone for a minute, he debated on how best to contact her. He should probably just go with an email so she didn't feel obligated to answer a call or text. He still wasn't sure how mad she was or what she was thinking. Opening his email, he selected the option to compose, and was about to start typing when he heard Cara clear her throat subtly. He looked up, and she was staring at him with one unimpressed eyebrow arched high.

"This will only take a moment. Important work stuff," he dismissed, his fingers deftly hitting his phone as he drafted the email unapologetically. He heard the sigh she released, but chose to ignore it. This couldn't wait.

**To:** Miss Anastasia Steele

**From:** Christian Grey

Ana-

I just wanted to let you know that the work on your car had been completed. How would you like the drop off handled?

Christian Grey

CEO of Grey Enterprise Holdings, INC.

He set his phone down and looked back up at his date, who opened her mouth to talk just as his phone began to ring. Christian saw Ana's name flashing across the screen. He snatched it up immediately and answered it.

"Hello?" he answered tentatively, almost convinced the call was somehow a mistake rather than intentional.

"Christian?" her voice came through the speaker, though sounded slightly hushed.

"Hi Ana," he said, relaxing back in his chair. He eyes landed on Cara who was shooting daggers at him. Shit. She probably wanted him to take the call away from the table. "Hey, hold on a second Ana," he said, pressing the phone to his shoulder. "Uh, I have to take this, please excuse me," he said, rising from his seat and hurrying out of the dining room.

"Ok, I'm back," he said into his phone as he made his way past the tables of diners and stood off to the side in the lobby. He could hear her better out here anyway.

"Hey, I got your email about Wanda, but I'm still at work and Jack is literally watching my every move from over my shoulder. He snapped at me for accessing my personal email so there was no way I could respond to you. So I escaped to the bathroom to call you instead."

"Why is he watching you over your shoulder?" he asked, immediately annoyed and angered at her idiot boss' behavior. The guy was an absolute tool and Christian literally seethed every time she told him something else about the guy.

"Because he's a dick," she said in a forceful whisper. "He was mad because he asked with _two days' notice_ to leave for a publishing conference with him tonight in New York. I wasn't sure about it, since it was so last minute, so I held off on giving him an answer until yesterday afternoon. It's a great opportunity for me, but, you know… He gives me—"

"The heebie-jeebies. Yes, I remember," Christian said with a small smile, trying to keep humor in his voice even though he started to feel a little pit of… something forming in his gut. Why was a conference scheduled so last minute? Surely Hyde was aware of the conference before two days prior. It was odd. He didn't like Jack Hyde. There was something about him that had just never sat right with Christian. But he reports he'd gotten back from Welch on him all came back clean, so he tried to chalk it up to him just being a miserable but harmless prick.

"Right," she said with an airy laugh. "Anyway, I questioned why it was such short notice, and he said it was because it was literally just approved. But that seems so unprofessional of SIP as a company to not notify the conference itself until the last minute that it will have two employees attending. All those last minute arrangement seem odd. Plus he gave me no details. No flight plan, no hotel information, no itinerary. He just told me when to show up for a ride to the airport. So I told him I wasn't sure, but my uncertainty seemed to really piss him off; he made some comment about how I should be grateful for the opportunity. That's when he told me he wanted me to work late today to prepare for the trip whether I was going or not, and he's been looming over the back of my chair barking orders at me and yelling at me for doing everything wrong ever since."

"I agree that is very odd for all the arrangements to be made so late. Conferences take months of preparation. It's very unusual for them accept extra attendees at such short notice. Who is arranging things over there at SIP?"

"Human Resources," she said, "Elizabeth Morgan. She's who pulled the strings to get Hyde and I added on and booked everything. He kept trying to guilt me about the money for the plane ticket, like it's my fault they booked me a flight two days in advance without asking if I could even go. It's insane. And his shitty attitude was doing nothing to convince me to say yes."

"So why didn't you say no?" he asked. He'd have felt better if she'd just said no.

She sighed. "Because it is a really good opportunity for me. Who was I kidding? I was always going to go, right? This is what I've been waiting for. I'm living my dream. I can't pass up the opportunity. I do want to go. Just not with him."

"I understand that," he conceded. Ana was a very driven worker. She was passionate about publishing, and so of course she would want to do anything and everything available to sharpen her skills in the field. And a conference in New York? That was a nice opportunity for her. "Just promise me you'll be safe out there okay?"

"Sure, Christian," she said, her voice soft, as if he could hear a smile on her lips. He could imagine her, cradling her phone against her ear as she smiled into it. She was likely slightly disheveled, her long hair swept up off her lean neck the way it usually was by the end of the day. Her makeup was probably a little worn away by now, her clothes a little rumpled, her eyes starting to hint at her exhaustion from the long day. A woman built from determination and passion, a woman who liked to sink her hands into her work and live for it. Not a woman with pristine hair, makeup and nails. Not a woman waiting for her meal ticket. He adored her. Every out of place hair, every worried line in her brow, ever wrinkle in her blouse. He loved what she represented. He adored the strong woman she was. His respect for her knew no bounds.

"I miss you," he said, unware he was saying it until the words were already out there.

A soft sigh. "I miss you too, Christian. After New York, we'll get together, okay?"

He smiled, already anticipating just the mere thought of it. But before he could respond, a loud pounding and a gruff but indecipherable voice barked unexpectedly through the phone.

"Shit," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'll be right out," she said louder, but the phone sounded like it was pulled away from her mouth. "That's Jack," her voice lowered again, this time speaking to him. "I wish he'd crawl out of my asshole already. I can't even go into the ladies room without him seeking me out and bitching at me."

Christian felt the annoyance at Hyde grow even more. "What time is your flight?"

"Take off it at ten thirty tonight."

His face screwed up in disapproval. "A flight out at ten thirty with the time difference will have you getting there at like, six or seven AM, Ana. You'll get off the plane and go straight to work."

"I know, but I don't have a choice. Jack said Elizabeth insisted we don't miss any more work than necessary so we're leaving for the airport from SIP at eight. I had to bring my packed bag to the office this morning. He wants me working straight through until then, from regular closing time until we leave, prepping for the trip. Overtime pay, I guess, right?" she tried to play it off like the scheduling wasn't a fucking nightmare.

"Ana!" a muffled and irritated yell came through phone again.

"I gotta go Christian. I'll try and text you when I land, but I'm still not completely sure of the itinerary so I don't know when I'll have time."

He was hesitant to let her go after finally getting to speak with her for the first time in days, but he also knew he really had no choice. After all, she was already hiding out in a bathroom just to talk to him this much. And even that was getting her yelled at by her asshole boss.

"Please call or text any time. I want to know you're safe out there."

"Sure. Bye Christian," she said, he voice already sounding distant, like she was pulling it away from her face in order to hang up.

"Bye," he said quickly, but was pretty sure she didn't even hear him. He hated that they had to cut the conversation short. Talking to Ana centered him, eased his anxiety for the first time this evening. It was so easy conversing with her. Why couldn't he be the way he was with her with everyone else? He'd expected tonight to be _this_ way, the way it was with _Ana_. Now that'd he learned how to communicate on this level with Ana, he'd expected that to translate to other people as well. But instead this felt just as foreign as it ever had.

Glancing at his watch, he ran a hand through his hair as he pocketed his phone. He'd been out here long her than he realized. He should get back inside to his date.

With a renewed since of confidence and calm after talking to Ana and reminding himself that he could be like that, he strolled back to the table. But that renewed confidence was busted back down as soon as he saw a very displeased Cara glowering at him from the table. Shit. What was she mad about now? Had he done something wrong? He'd take the call away from the table. That was the polite thing to do, right?

"Sorry about that. Business," he said absently, trying to play it off. Maybe this was about something that happened while he was away from the table?

"Bullshit it was business," she said, irritated. Okay, clearly him then. "You interrupted our date to speak to another woman. It's not like I care if you're seeing someone else, this is only a first date after all, but it's beyond rude to actually answer another woman's phone call while you're on a date."

He cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. Cara didn't know that Ana was just a friend, but even so, it was rude. And he was now sure it was probably one of those stupid dating rules, which he knew nothing about, that you don't answer another woman's call while out on a date. But he hadn't even thought twice about answering. He'd fucked up again. It was like he made the night increasingly worse at every possible turn.

"I'm sorry. She's just a friend. I needed to speak with her about her car," he tried to explain, tried to reason.

Her expression of irritation relaxed some, morphing into a look of genuine bewilderment. "Regardless of whether or not she is a friend, and for the record, the way your eyes lit up when you saw she was calling, and the smile on your face when you answered begs to differ on _that_," she said pointedly. "It's rude to answer _any_ phone call during dinner, business or personal, unless it's an emergency. Seriously, you haven't looked half as interested at any point this evening as you did when you had her on the phone. And you spent twice the time out there talking with her than you have actually _speaking_ with me all night. Why did you even ask me out if you were going to ignore me all night?"

"I…" he hesitated. What should he say? He couldn't tell her this was his first date ever. That kind of information couldn't become public knowledge. And this girl didn't owe him a thing. If she wanted to go out there and tell the world that she was Christian Grey's first date, the tabloids would have a field day. His dating life was already the center of such ridiculous speculation. He didn't need to add fuel to that fire. Seconds ticked by, and still he said nothing.

He had no idea what to do, what to say. He hadn't _intentionally_ fucked up the night, but he'd still managed to do it royally over and over. He was so out of his element, so over his head here. This was a terrible idea. His worst ever, he feared. He should have talked to Elliot about what to do, what to say, what the rules of this whole thing were, before he ever even asked a girl out. He had no business being here right now. Still not knowing how to respond to her question, he finally just resolved to give up and leave the question open ended.

She let out a small groan of frustration once she realized he wasn't going to answer. "On _that_ note, I'd say it's time to call it a night, wouldn't you?" she said with a roll of her eyes that heightened his own irritation. "I'd like to split the check," she said, pulling her purse up onto the table and reaching inside for her wallet. First the eye rolling, and now she wanted to emasculate him by paying part of the bill? No. No way.

"I'll pay for the meal. I can afford it," he said with a condescending tone, for a reason he couldn't fathom the moment the words left his mouth. A perfectly nice woman offers to pay her share of a meal she was clearly disappointed with, obviously proving her decency, proving that she was not on this date because of his name and financial status, and he responds to that respectable notion like an arrogant dick. Why couldn't he stop himself from falling back on these bad habits of his?

The little grimace she gave made his stomach sink further. She was just as unimpressed with his attitude as he was. Just another reminder that he was the sole reason this date was a disaster. She'd been trying hard to be nothing but genuine and polite, but he was clearly spreading her patience thinner and thinner.

"I'm sure you can, however, so can I," she said with a tight, polite smile.

"I would really like to pay," he said, his voice actually sounding remorseful. "It's the least I can do. You were lovely this evening, but I realize I have been less than pleasant company." Finally, a little moment of humility.

For a brief second, he saw the flash of pity in her eyes. The genuine acknowledgement of his demeanor at least seemed to resonate with her a little. She nodded, removing her empty hand from her purse, assenting to his desire to pay. The bill had been taken care of beforehand regardless, so he was glad she agreed. They sat in silence for a moment before she gathered her clutch close to her and sat up slightly. "Well, I think I should be going."

He stood quickly in an attempt to pull out her chair, but she was up before he had the chance. He walked behind her, following her out of the restaurant at a reasonable distance. Once they reached the outside, she turned to him. "I think I'll just catch a cab home. It's only a few blocks."

His mouth dropped open for a second as he hesitated, then he said, "I'd really prefer to take you and make sure you get home safe."

But she was already shaking her head before he even finished his sentence. "No, really. Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine."

He stood there at a complete loss. He was sure the look on his face openly conveyed his severe floundering at the situation. "Thanks for dinner," she said with a polite nod, "It was…" she started only to trail off, her eyes hitting the sidewalk.

She never did finish that sentence. Instead a cab pulled up and she quickly darted off to it without a glance back at him. When it was all said and done the date was over in fifty-eight minutes.

* * *

Christian collapsed into his car, his head slamming back and hitting the headrest of his seat as a frustrated, guttural groan escaped from the back of his throat. He'd driven himself, insisting Taylor be dismissed for the evening, wanting to come across normal, well, as normal as a billionaire could, anyway. That had been his first mistake. Because now he wished for nothing more than to sit and wallow in misery as he replayed scenes from the evening over and over in his head, obsessing about this until he drove himself crazy. Well, he didn't _want_ to do that, but he knew he was going to do it regardless, and it would be much less dangerous to do so while not operating a vehicle.

All those feelings of accomplishment and growth, they were all gone now. Because the reality was, _**he**_ was a shitty date. It was one thing to ask out a woman and meet her at a restaurant. But actually sitting there, conversing… _connecting_? Fuck. It had been _so hard_.

But why had it been so fucking difficult? He'd been so sure he could do this, but when the moment came, it had been like he'd learned nothing at all over the last weeks- months. He'd changed so much, grown _so_ much, and yet, when it came down to it, he was no better tonight than he'd ever been at handling that type of social situation. He'd been a terrible date. He'd been impatient and rude. He'd been hard to talk to, hard to connect with. He'd given her nothing. It was a wonder she'd stayed as long as she did.

And he realized now, sitting here in his car with his forehead pressed against the top of the steering wheel, that he was lying to himself before when he'd said that if this didn't work, it was no big deal. It _was_ a big deal. He really thought he could do this. And the disappointed that he couldn't sat like a thick ball in his throat.

How in the fuck could he let himself believe that he was capable of this? He hated to admit it to himself, but he had been proud of all of the changes he was trying to make. He tried to downplay it to himself, to Flynn, repeating that if dating didn't work out for him, then it was no big deal; that he was perfectly content spending the rest of his days doing what he already knew _did_ work for him. But deep down he knew it was a lie. He wanted this to work. He wanted to prove to himself that he could do something he'd always sworn he could never do. He wanted to prove himself wrong. But he hadn't. He had proved himself right, and it was killing him inside. He put himself out there and failed. Miserably. So… now what?

Fuck.

The self-loathing was festering in him like never before. He'd never had hope, never had emotional expectations for himself. And deep down, he knew this was why. Because when things didn't work out, when he was proven incapable, it hurt. The inferiority he felt at once again knowing how different he was, how he could never live up to the standards set by his perfect family, knowing he could never be normal… He'd never tried because he didn't want to deal with the failure. He was a failure. He was hardly passable as a friend, brother and son. He could never be a boyfriend, a husband, or a father.

Finally starting his car, he began driving back home, the vicious cycle of thoughts looping in his mind over and over: the determination, the anticipation both squashed quickly by the reality, the embarrassment, the shame. He felt himself spiraling into a dark pit of self-hate that he hadn't felt this strongly since his teenage years.

Mind racing, he soon realized he was pulling into the garage at Escala without any recollection of his drive. Ascending to the penthouse in the elevator he heaved a sigh as the doors opened and he stepped into his large, cold apartment. He dropped his suit jacket on the back of the couch, loosening his tie and rolled up his sleeves as he walked to the bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch. He downed it quickly, walking to the kitchen to place the glass in the sink.

As he rounded the corner, he was surprised to find Gail rummaging around in the cabinets in her sweats and an old Guns N' Roses t-shirt. He raised a curious eyebrow at her, never having seen her in such attire.

"Gail," he acknowledged her softly, causing her to jump with a start.

"Mr. Grey!" she gasped, her hand over her heart, her eyes wide. "You scared me! I apologize for coming in your apartment off duty. I was making dinner and I just came to borrow a vegetable peeler. The one in our apartment broke. I didn't expect you home so early," she rambled, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt, clearly embarrassed.

"It's fine Gail. You should know by now you're more than welcome to borrow anything you need from the main apartment."

"Thank you, sir," she replied automatically, her stance straightening to her normal poised self, hands placed delicately at her hips. "Can I get you anything?"

"Gail," he sighed, shaking his head at her, as he took a seat at the breakfast bar. "Don't stand there all prim and proper in a GNR t-shirt and sweatpants. You're off duty. Relax, please," he said with a small smile. She blushed, but relaxed just the same.

"Will it be breakfast for one or two in the morning, sir?"

He snorted, his disgust at himself escaping full force. "For one. My life is destined for thousands of breakfasts for one."

He rolled his neck back, cracking it, catching the look on Gail's face as he did. She looked pensive; sad, almost, sympathetic, and like she was restraining herself from speaking.

That look was the same he'd seen often from his mother and it always slayed him inside. It always managed to heighten his feelings of inadequacy. Luckily he didn't have to find out what Gail wanted to say, because before she even got the chance to try and divulge what was on her mind, the door to their apartment opened revealing Taylor in a pair of boxers and a black t-shirt. He smiled brightly as his eyes landed on Gail, but only for a split second before he recognized the fact that his boss was also in the room. The smile that had been on his face dropped, and Christian was graced with the rare sight of his PPO's blushed cheeks. He watched Taylor straighten up, looking ridiculous standing at attention in his underwear. He couldn't help but grin when Gail let out a giggle, obviously just as amused at how silly the notion was, especially since she'd done the same in her lounge clothes not fifteen minutes ago.

Taylor shot her a look before giving Christian a firm nod. "Mr. Grey."

"Relax, Taylor," Christian said, the amusement clear in his own voice. He'd seen Taylor in his boxers before, but only when being awoken from a nightmare, so it had never really been priority enough at the time for him to care. But this situation was different- humorous, and soothed his frazzled psyche just a touch more.

Taylor relaxed a little, his eyes again finding Gail's, only this time with a plead that screamed, 'Let's get out of here.' Gail obliged, picking up the vegetable peeler from where she'd set it on the counter and heading back toward the door leading to their apartment.

"Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Grey," she said politely, her voice soft, but her eyes intense, almost as if she was imploring him to do something.

"Thank you, Gail," he nodded, standing too, ready to go to his study and submerged himself in work, knowing sleep would not come without consequences tonight. "Taylor," he acknowledged, receiving a nod in return.

They all turned away from each other to head their separate ways, when Christian remembered: "Oh, and Taylor, I spoke with Ana and she will be leaving out of town for a work conference this evening. So you can arrange for her car to be returned any time over the next couple of days, as long as it's back before she returns."

"A work conference, sir? Is she going with Jack Hyde?" Taylor's brow furrowed, showing an immediate concern. Christian's interest was immediately piqued, seeing as Taylor didn't show emotion in even the most pressing situations.

"Yes. Why?"

Christian watched Taylor look at Gail, giving her a slight nod in the direction of their apartment. As soon as she was through the door, Taylor looked back at his boss, all business. "I don't trust Mr. Hyde," he admitted.

"Why? Based on what?" Christian snapped quickly. He trusted Taylor with his life, and if Taylor didn't trust Hyde, that was good enough reason for Christian not to trust him. But coupled with the fact that Christian himself already didn't like the guy, as well as the fact that he gave Ana the heebie-jeebies, it immediately had him concerned.

"Based on nothing tangible. More of a gut feeling," Taylor admitted. "Did you read Welch's reports on him?"

He had, of course. Welch had done a typical background check on Hyde, looking into the available outlets to access information on him months ago when Christian had first asked. Nothing had really come of it, just some red flags about his high turnover rate of assistants. Christian had ordered for a deeper search in order to be sure, and when the second report had graced his desk a couple of weeks ago, it had very little information in it. Certainly nothing worrisome. There was nothing in SIP's records indicating any misconduct on his behalf in regard to his previous assistants. Not one negative comment was left about him in their resignation notes. Moreover, a handful praised him for teaching them a lot about the business. And once Christian learned from Ana how big of a dick Hyde was, it was easy enough to write off why no one wanted to stick around and work underneath him.

"Yeah but I don't remember it containing anything bad. There was barely anything in it to speak of."

"Correct," Taylor said. "So much turnover in employees and not one negative comment. That in itself seems odd to me. And it's not just the information, or lack thereof," Taylor said, speaking more emotionally rather than professionally now, a slip Taylor rarely made, heightening Christian's unease. "As you know, I've picked Ana up on multiple occasions due to her car situation. So I've been there, I've seen Mr. Hyde and the way he acts toward her. It just never sat well with me. He's either practically crawling all over her, or he's screaming his head off at her. I've never seen him touch her, or I would have stepped in, but I don't like the way he acts. It's certainly not professional or acceptable. I even brought it up to Miss Steele once, but she just dismissed me, saying she's used to it and she knows how to handle him."

"I'm aware the guy is a prick, and I know he is far from professional. But that doesn't mean he's dangerous," Christian said, the conviction of his words sorely lacking.

"It doesn't mean he's not. And with all due respect sir, Miss Steele isn't exactly the person you or I want to test that theory out on."

Christian felt the worry unfurling in his gut. Shit. Taylor was right. If Hyde had something to hide, if he was a threat, the most likely time for him to play that hand would be while he had a young woman alone in a foreign city all to himself for a few days.

"Why haven't you told me this, Taylor? Why haven't you made your fears knowing before now?" Christian spat, getting agitated. If Taylor didn't trust the guy, then Christian didn't trust the guy, because Christian trusted Taylor. The idea that he was just mentioning this now, when Ana was leaving for Sea-Tac in—he looked at his watch—_forty minutes_, to be alone with someone his PPO didn't trust was completely unacceptable.

"I've…" Taylor paused, looking almost embarrassed, "had someone watching Miss Steele, very loosely, sir."

He was having Ana _watched_? Taylor implemented all kinds of security measures without Christian's direct approval. Christian trusted him fully to know what was needed, when, and how. He gave him carte blanche to handle security needs as he saw fit. So it wasn't the idea that Taylor had done this without Christian knowing that had him reeling. It was the idea that he felt Ana needed it, and Christian had been caught so unaware. So much was happening in such a short time, and if Taylor was right, and Ana was in some kind of danger with Hyde while heading to New York without protection, Christian was going to flip his shit. "Who? And how?"

"Just one of my spare guys who works when we need extra hands for bigger events and such. And he's just light surveillance. Does some periodic checks on her: drives by her place at night, keeps an eye on her when she does her morning runs, sees that she gets to and from work and home every morning and evening safely. I've been comfortable with her level of safety since I had him on her. But I was unaware of her trip, so arrangements haven't been made for him to accompany her and keep an eye out."

Shit. Shit shit shit. "Get Welch on the phone," Christian snapped, tugging his tie even looser as he walked toward his office. Taylor followed quickly behind, his phone in hand. As Christian rounded his desk, his desk phone rang and answered it immediately.

"Welch," he snapped into the phone.

"Sir," Welch acknowledged, waiting his boss' instruction.

"I need more on Jack Hyde and I need it now," he said quickly.

There was a couple second pause, then Welch's voice hesitantly said, "Sir, I've gathered all I can on him at this point. Is there something specific you're looking for? What exactly is it you want on him?"

"I don't know," Christian said, frustrated. "But Taylor doesn't trust him and I don't fucking trust him, and he's about to take Ana to New York to a conference and—"

"A conference?" Welch cut in, his voice tentative, like he was trying to piece something together.

"Yes. A publishing conference in New York City," Christian reiterated.

"Hold on a second sir," Welch, said, the sound of papers rustling around him. "Let me call you back," he said, the line going dead before Christian had a chance to object. What was Welch on to? Nothing good, he was sure. His eyes shot up to Taylor's and saw the worry in them. If Taylor's eyes looked like that, Christian couldn't imagine what his own looked like.

"Excuse me for a moment, sir, I'd like get some proper clothing while we wait on Welch," Taylor said. Christian nodded. The last fucking thing he cared about right now was if Taylor was in his boxers or not. He was worried about Ana, and nothing else. Just minutes later while Christian was staring down his phone waiting for Welch to call back, Taylor returned to his office in his work pants, his suit jacket draped over his forearm as he finished securing the top two buttons on his dress shirt. Christian's stomach sunk even further. Taylor was dressed for action. He didn't grab a pair of sweatpants. He dressed for _work_. He was anticipating action. And action for Taylor would only mean danger for Ana.

He was pulled from those thoughts by his ringing desk phone, which he snatched from the cradle in an instant. "Grey," he spat harshly.

"_Do not_ let her go, sir," Welch urged forcefully.

"Why?" Christian asked, rising quickly from his seat. He cradled the phone against his shoulder, leaning down and pressing his fists into the surface of his desk, trying to quell the feeling of panic swelling in his chest.

"The second time I searched him, remember what I said about his assistants?"

"That they didn't last. They all quit within months."

"Exactly," Welch confirmed. "There have been a handful of women who quit quickly, within just weeks of being hired, most likely because the guy is just a jerk and they didn't want to deal with him. But the ones who stayed longer, nearly all of them left after going away to _conferences_ with him. I just cross checked the dates on everything for patterns and there is definitely one there. It's highly suspect that they would go out of town with him, and resign immediately for no good reason. In fact, all of those women are the ones who left positive feedback about their experience working under him. So then why leave? Again, I have nothing to go on besides that fact that it seems odd. But _**if**_ something happens, I can guarantee it happens at these conferences, Mr. Grey. So again, do not let Ana get on that plane with him."

Christian's panicked eyes shot to Taylor.

"I'll bring the car around, sir," he said, already on his way out of Christian's office door. Christian disconnected the call with Welch without a word, already hot on Taylor's heels.


	17. Chapter 17

The car ride to SIP seemed to last forever. He'd attempted to call Ana's cell while in the elevator on the way down to the Escala garage, but it had just rang a couple of times before kicking over to voicemail. He'd hung up and called the office instead, only to find out the phone lines were, of course, shut off at this time at night. Glancing at the clock on his phone, he muttered a quick, "Shit." It was just after seven thirty. They'd be leaving in less than a half hour for the airport. It dawned on him then that Ana was _alone_ in the office with Jack. What if… He shook his head and took a deep breath; it was unlikely that Hyde would pursue her in the office, not when he had his whole weekend conference set up to carry out the suspected plans. So she was most likely fine right now. He just had to get to her before she_ left_.

His attempt at talking himself off the ledge was short lived as he imaged a scenario where he didn't get there before they left. The airport wasn't too far, but they still might decide to take off immediately in order to get a head start on checking in for their flight. If he missed her at SIP, and she wasn't answering her phone, he knew the chances of warning her would be slim to nil.

Highlighting her name on the screen of his phone, he attempted a second call. Again, voicemail. He pulled up a text draft and quickly shot her a warning.

**You need to cancel the trip. You cannot trust Hyde. Do not leave SIP. I'm coming for you.**

Setting his phone down conspicuously on the seat next to him so he had access in case she returned his calls or text, he tried to focus on not focusing on the worst possible outcome. She _would_ still be there. He _would_ find her in time. She _would_ be fine.

Curling his fingers around the knot of his tie, he tugged, loosening it a little around his neck. He undid his platinum cufflinks, tossing them carelessly on the car seat next to him, and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. His fingers worked continuously through his hair as he watched buildings, cars, and people flashing past window. He could tell they were traveling at a faster speed than normal. Taylor could sense his urgency and was right to react accordingly.

What if they didn't get there in time? Ana was too innocent, too sweet, too trusting. And because of it, she wasn't the best judge of character. Seriously-look and what she thought of _him_. He was a monster, the devil incarnate, a living, walking, talking nightmare of the human race, and she, with her obstinate faith in his non-existent heart, time after time put herself in his presence and put her unwavering trust in his hands. And he'd hurt her. Again and again he'd caused her pain, yet she always came back with a smile and a renewed confidence in him.

And he already knew she didn't like Jack. She'd outright told him on multiple occasions that he made her uncomfortable. Christian himself had seen the prick leering at her from the street, flirting, acting wildly inappropriate for their given relationship as boss and employee. And yet she was willing to go off with him alone to a city she didn't know. So how could he trust her to see the signs if she were in real danger? How could he trust her to protect herself if Jack suddenly decided to act out? He couldn't. He couldn't trust her to keep herself safe. So **he** had to make sure she was safe.

Mentally he cursed Welch for not connecting the conference dates to the resignations of the employees weeks ago. Welch was a busy man, and logically he knew that. There were so many daily security issues that needed to be handled, and Welch tackled as many of them personally as he was able. He delegated work when necessary, but anything pertinent, he liked to handle himself. His attention to detail and pride in his work were just a couple of the many reasons Christian spent so much to keep him in his employ. But unfortunately, looking this deeply into Jack Hyde had fallen sort, whether it was because he just saw no reason to press it further, or because of all the more serious, impending threats against GEH, his family, and Christian himself. Welch couldn't always spend his time researching the private lives of insignificant random men when there were such large, looming threats over his person and business, local and worldwide. And Christian himself had dropped the ball by not conveying the possible necessity for any real urgency. But hindsight was 20/20. Hell, he hadn't really believed himself that it was possibly as dangerous as it was, and now that was coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor said, pulling Christian from his thoughts. "I don't anticipate Miss Steele being in immediate danger when we show up, being that the report seems to suggest that the potential for danger will not occur until they are actually out of town. But if Mr. Hyde does become a threat when we arrive, can I trust that you will stand back and let me do my job?"

Christian shot him a look in the mirror. "I need to keep Ana safe."

"And I need to keep you safe, sir," Taylor replied stoically. On a rational level, Christian of course knew this. And as long as he got to Ana in time and prevented her from leaving with Hyde, he had no intention of starting anything. After all, they currently had no evidence against Hyde, nothing to support their theory other than a gut feeling. All he cared about was making sure Ana wasn't put in the position to be victimized.

"I don't see any reason for things to progress physically, Taylor. I just want to keep her from leaving. I just want to keep him from getting her anywhere alone."

"Sir," he acknowledged with a nod, seemingly satisfied with his boss' assurance that he'd stand down.

Taylor pulled up just outside of the front doors of SIP and Christian had his door open before the car even rolled to a complete stop. Taylor was steps behind him as he pushed his way through the main entrance and paused, trying to figure out which direction to head. He'd never been inside of the actual office before, just met Ana outside of it a few times. The layout was pretty basic. It appeared to have one long hall filled with offices to one side and a couple of conference rooms down the other. Opting to take the main hallway of offices, he headed down, glancing in the doorways of the rooms he passed along the way. They were all offices of various editors; their name's inscribed on cheap plaques on each individual door. He saw the one boldly reading "Jack Hyde, Editor" on a closed door and pushed it open with no preamble.

"Ana?" he called out in the room as he entered, but it was empty. A combination of disappointment and anxiety washed over him. Fuck, what if he had missed her?

Reading his mind, Taylor said, "The main door was unlocked, sir. They are most likely here somewhere."

Right. They wouldn't have left it open. Good. With renewed confidence that she was still here, he continued searching, but found the last room in the hall empty like all the others. Hurrying back down the way they came, they cross the main lobby toward the two conferences rooms, but the shades were open in both, and even from yards away he could see they were empty.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he muttered, tugging at his hair. He turned in a complete circle, looking around, trying to figure out where else they could be in here.

Then he heard it. A scream.

It was muffled, cut short, but he was sure that it was a scream of distress. His eyes found Taylor's wildly, and he could sense his PPO was on full alert now. He scanned the room, his eyes scouring the direction they'd both heard the sound come from.

"There," Taylor said, pointing to a door tucked back into the corner with "Copy/File Room" labeled on the front. They both rushed to the door, Christian reaching for the knob only to find it locked. He started to feel the panic setting in, but Taylor was urging him out of the way without even bothering to speak to him. He was in straight protection mode. Before Christian even knew what was about to happen, Taylor landed a swift, perfectly located kick to the side of the door knob, and the door smashed open with a sickening crack, splinters of wood flying inward as the door slammed into the wall behind it and jarred backward.

What happened next was in such a hazy flurry that Christian wasn't completely aware of all of his actions. All he knew was that he saw Ana pinned to the top of a small table, her button-down blouse lying open around her so all that was keeping her modest was her bra. Jack hovered over her, his left forearm pressed against her throat as her hands pushed urgently at his unmoving arm, her mouth gaped open, a gurgling whimper escaping her throat, her eyes wide and wild as she struggled against him for air. His right hand was tugging at her skirt, flipping the fabric up to her waist as his hips pushed between her thighs, separating them.

Hyde's eyes snapped to the doorway in the seconds after it was kicked open to reveal Christian standing there. He snarled, his left arm pressing down even tighter against her throat, so much so that a look of utter pain took over her face and her hands began to claw at him desperately. His right hand shot up her thigh underneath her skirt, attempting to take whatever he could from her during the last moments he had to do so.

Christian was across the room in mere seconds. He felt the pain in his fist before he even realized he had punched Hyde square in the face. He heard Ana's struggling, gasping breath, her voice horse and whimpering. She was crying, the noise painful to hear because the trauma to her throat made it sound devastatingly worse than normal crying. "Get her the fuck out of here!" Christian snarled to Taylor, his eyes locked on his target.

"Christian!" she croaked, attempting to argue. It made him wince, hearing the hoarseness of her voice. It made his stomach turn. He didn't want to hear it, to be reminded of her pain.

"Just go, Ana," he yelled at her. He needed her out of here. He needed to know she would be safe, away from this. What if Jack had a weapon? Ana could still get hurt. If she did, he couldn't bear it. He needed to know she there would be no way she could endure any further harm.

"No!" she called. "I'm not leaving," she insisted.

He didn't respond, didn't even looked back at her as Taylor forced her from the room, her calling out to him the whole time, urging Taylor to let her go. For the briefest of seconds he thought about turning and walking out the door with her, but the thought was fleeting. He couldn't. He needed to take care of this personally. The sound of her choking cries played like a soundtrack in his mind, fueling him as his left hand tightened around the loose fabric of Jack's shirt and his right fist connected directly to Jack's jaw. Jack fell to the floor after a third hit, where Christian's foot landed a blow to the side of his abdomen that made Hyde let out an "oof," before he rolled over, clutching his side in pain. Christian paused, his breath rough as he tried to catch up to the adrenaline and rage coursing through his body. He looked at Hyde lying on the floor. He wanted to see him suffer, wanted to see him writhe in pain and fear until he was begging for death. That felt like the only thing that could possibly center him at this moment.

But instead of fear and agony, through his swollen and bloodied face, Christian saw a smirk as Hyde brought his right hand up to his face, dragging his middle finger under his nose and inhaled deeply. What was he doing? His smirk grew to a full blown grin as his eyes opened back up and he brought that finger to his mouth, popping it between his lips and sucking it tenderly. "Mmm," he hummed. "So sweet." Christian felt the nausea course through him as he realized where that hand had been; what Jack had just done. The bile rose all the way to the back of his throat before he managed to swallow it down. The taste was still on the back of his tongue when he lunged at a laughing Jack, climbing on top of him, again fisting his shirt in his left hand and pulling him halfway up off the ground, preparing to rain a million more blows to Jack's fucking face. But that was when Taylor stepped purposefully back into the room. "Sir," he said, his tone warning enough without needing to say the words. Christian scowled at his PPO, cocking his right fish back, planning to ignore him, when Taylor said, "I will handle this, sir. Ana needs you now." Christian halted, his fist dropping back down.

Ana.

Taylor was right, Ana needed him. And he had to stop this before he let loose and really fucked Hyde up. But he didn't have to like it. With a nod and grunt in acknowledgement, he slammed Jack back down onto the floor. He stood up, hovering over him, looking him dead in his beady little eyes. "If you ever touch her again I will kill you," he said. Jack just chuckled, which pissed Christian off even more. He sucked some phlegm from the back of his throat and spit directly on Jack's face before turning and walking out the door. He would leave Jack to Taylor. He needed to find Ana.

"For her safety, I called Sawyer off his normal detail so he could come and take Miss Steele immediately back to Escala. He's been instructed not to leave her side until one or both of us returns," Taylor said, his eyes trained on Jack as he spoke. "I will handle Mr. Hyde from here."

Christian nodded. Yes. Good. This is why he had Taylor. Safety was always the top priority. And whatever he had planned to take care of Jack Hyde, whether it involved police or not, Christian trusted his judgement. He had to focus on Ana now. He took the key fob from Taylor's hand and exited the office in long, quick strides. Once he got to Escala, he would send Sawyer back here to offer Taylor any assistance he may need, as well as provide him with transportation back to Escala when all was said and done.

He sped. Faster than was smart on the city streets, but still he sped. The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins. He felt the anger, the pure rage filling him so completely that his knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. The tension was painful, pulling tightly at the little scrapes and wounds that now adorned his hands. The splits in his skin were raw and red, some dotted with blood, though he wasn't sure if it was his or Hyde's.

His heart was racing as he thought of the sick fucking smile on Hyde's face. His stomach flipped as the fleeting image of Hyde sucking his finger took presence in his mind. _ Fuck_. He was so obscenely angry, so completely and utterly furious. He needed to calm down. Bringing the car to a stop at a red light, he closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. But when his lids slid closed, all he could see was _her_, the look in her eyes, the bruises on her pale skin, the pain in her sobs when they'd arrived. His eyes snapped back open. The images of his mind's eye did nothing but heighten his already abundant fury.

He pulled into the Escala parking garage, quickly finding one of his empty parking spaces and exiting his car in haste. He intended to bolt for the penthouse elevator when he heard a voice.

"Mr. Grey, sir," Sawyer called to him.

"Sawyer," he acknowledged, confused and on alert. What the fuck was he still doing in the parking garage? Where was Ana? Before he could ask, Sawyer answered his unspoken question.

"Miss Steele refused to exit the car, Mr. Grey. She was very upset that she was forced to leave the office following the attack. She had been insisting on me taking her back to SIP since the moment we left. I obviously refused and attempted to explain that unsafe for her to remain there. But that seemed to fall on deaf ears and she has refused to leave the car to go upstairs, sir."

"Jesus Christ," Christian sighed in unchecked exasperation, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Did she not understand the severity of this fucking situation? How could she not understand why she needed to get out of that office? His patience was so thin in this moment he was having a hard time even thinking straight. He was spiraling into this pit where he was grasping for solid ground but coming up empty. He'd never felt such a complete loss of control over his emotions before.

He glanced over to the vehicle Sawyer had driven here, able to make out the silhouette of Ana's head in the back seat through the tinted glass. She was the single most stubborn woman he'd ever met in his life. And fuck if he knew how to handle her. She'd just been though a hellish ordeal, and she wanted to pout about him trying to keep her safe? How fucked up was that? He could feel his fists clenching and unclenching as he attempted to gain some composure over himself, trying to curb his infuriation.

"I'll handle her from here," he said, though the tone of his voice clearly conveyed that he was unsure exactly how he was going to do that. Handing the keys to his car to Sawyer, he said, "You go back and assist Taylor however he needs you. Come back here with him when you two are done and we'll debrief this situation then."

"Sir," Sawyer nodded his assent as they exchanged keys and Sawyer hurried to go help Taylor and Christian headed toward the door closest to Ana. He hit the fob, unlocking the doors of the Audi just before yanking the door open.

"I told you I am not leaving this car," she said slowly, like she was speaking to a toddler, her tone hostile but her eyes still trained on a spot in front of her. She was being petulant, her arms crossed in front of her in defiance.

"Anastasia," he spat, his frustration obvious. Sawyer was just trying to keep her safe, just following orders given to him. Why couldn't she respect that? Why couldn't she respect that they were all doing this for her wellbeing?

"Christian," she squeaked out in surprised, her head snapping to his, her eyes meeting his as she quickly scrambled out of the car. He saw her eyes flash from surprise to happiness to relief, all emotions seemingly fighting for equal space inside her head. He'd had to step back in order to make room for her to exit the car in such a flurry. She now stood directly in front of him, her teeth sunken into her bottom lip.

"Why the fuck are you giving Sawyer such a hard time? He's just doing as he's told, trying to protect you," he said, the words falling from his mouth with biting venom before he could think better of them.

Okay, now he knew what emotion was flaring in her eyes, and it wasn't any of the previous three. Her blue eyes burned with unbridled anger the second the last word left his mouth. "I was worried about you," she spat. "One second I'm on the desk getting attacked by my piece of shit boss, and the next thing I know I'm in one of your fucking Audi's with a complete stranger. How dare you just send me away like that!"

"It's not like you could _do_ anything Ana! I can take care of myself. And either way, I had Taylor there! I just wanted you out of the building. I needed to know you were safe!" he yelled, louder than he had realized.

"And what about me needing to know you're safe huh? What the fuck happened in there when I left? Don't I need to make a statement with the police? Did you guys even _call_ the police? And where is Taylor? I need to know what happened! This happened at my job Christian! I want to know what's going on!" He turned from her then, walking toward the elevator. Is that all she cared about? Her job? How all this would make her look? "I need you to talk to me! What happened to Jack?"

_What happened to Jack?_ Why did she care? Was she… what? Worried about that piece of shit? She couldn't possibly be! Hyde got what he deserved, _that's_ what happened to him. The image of Hyde sucking his finger once again infiltrated his mind. He shook his head to dismiss it. It was taken care of it. That's all she needed to know. So he didn't answer, choosing instead to stomp away in such long strides he heard her heels clicking rapidly in order to keep up with him.

"_Christian_," she called after him, sounding even more annoyed that he was flat out ignoring her.

He was struggling, really struggling with all of his emotions right now. He was still so angry, and so frustrated, and so… sad. God, he was so sad that this had happened to her. She didn't deserve it, not one fucking second of it. But it had happened. His index finger quickly typed in the code to the elevator, punching the number so hard the 'three' got stuck inside for a second before popping back out.

The elevator doors mercifully slid open just as she caught up with him, and he stepped on without a word. But his mind was running at a frantic pace. Here she was, complaining about the fucking details, complaining that Christian had had her removed from the office for her own safety. Where were her fucking priorities? Didn't she realize the severity of the situation? Didn't she realize what had almost happened to her? He'd been a little late, and she'd still gotten hurt, but he'd saved her from the worst of it. And all she cared about was her desire to know what happened once she was gone.

He cared about her. He cared about her so fucking much. If she'd been badly hurt? He felt the devastation at just the mere idea of it wash through him. It would have utterly slayed him. Because Hyde _would_ have- if Christian hadn't show up when he did, there was no doubt that Hyde **would** have… Christian shuttered. To think the 'r' word in relation to Ana made the bile rise in his throat again. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the elevator wall, his fingers gripping the hand rail that bordered the lower half of the walls. Rape. Ana was almost _raped_.

He would have killed him. If Christian had shown up and been too late, if Hyde had done it, there was no doubt in his mind that Christian would. have. _killed_ him. He would be standing here with the weight of Hyde's ended life on his shoulders. The idea that he had that kind of rage in him scared him, but at the same time he felt justified for feeling it. For Ana, he would have done it. He wouldn't let her live in a world where someone who hurt her like that was still alive.

Suddenly the elevator lurched and came to a screeching stop. His head snapped up, his eyes wildly searching for some explanation, where they landed on Ana, standing there with her palm flattened out over the stop button.

"What the fuck, Ana?" he spat, swaying toward her to release the button. But she stepped in front of it.

"Tell me what happened in that office, Christian. I need to know. I need to know what happened."

"It doesn't concern you," he snapped back at her, overpowering her and yanking the button back into place to start the elevator again. It would take a few minutes to get the gears turning and get the thing moving properly again. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in this confined space. He was feeling more and more like a caged animal every additional second he spent in here with her glaring at him like that. He took her place in front of the control panel to insure she wouldn't pull the same stunt again. She immediately lost interest in the button at his words anyway.

"Doesn't concern me? _Doesn't concern me_?" she practically shrieked, her voice hitting such a high pitch it cracked, probably due to her still sore throat. His mind flashed the image of her pained face as she struggled to push Jack's arm off her neck. "This concerns _me_ more than anybody, Christian. This happened _to me_. It _happened_ **to.** **me**." Her voice cracked again with the strain and he couldn't look at her.

It happened to her.

_It_ happened to her. She'd been hurt. _Violated. _ That happened. To **her**. "You don't think I know that?" he snapped.

"Well it doesn't fucking seem like it! You had no right to kick me out of there like you did."

"Ana I needed you out of there so I knew you were safe. It's as simple as that. I was keeping you safe. And I won't apologize for it."

"Yeah but that's not what I wanted! You did what you needed to do to make yourself feel better about the situation, but in turn it made the whole thing even worse for me! Do you have any idea what it was like to not know what was happening? And on top of everything, I was worried about you. You forcing me to leave made me feel helpless. You took away all of my control! And you don't even care!"

He looked at her, standing there, baring her soul, bleeding her anguish, so angry and so…_ anxious_. She was surging with unchecked emotions the same way he was. And it snapped something inside of him. All the emotions, all the raging feelings that were coiled inside of him snapped and before either of them could comprehend what was happening, her face was in his hands, her hips were pinned to the wall behind her by his own, his lips slamming against hers with such force it was momentarily painful before he pulled back slightly.

His lips were hungry, desperate against hers and hers were reacting with equal force, equal enthusiasm. He felt feral- he had no idea what he was doing. He was out of control, like a man possessed, manic. He wasn't thinking about anything other than this moment. All thoughts of the possible repercussions of this act were nonexistent in the moment his lips touched hers. He didn't know what the intense urge to kiss her meant, or what her kissing him back meant. He just knew that in the moment it felt like the only option, the only possible outlet for all of their pent up inner turmoil.

His hands began their exploration of her body, taking no time, just blindly groping her everywhere within reach. His lips gave hers a reprieve as he opted instead to leave wet, sucking kisses down the side of her neck and around to her throat. This felt right. His lips on her body felt so right.

"I don't care?" he managed to snap at her between kisses.

"Christian," she groaned, her voice uncertain, but also tinged with the unmistakable sound of lust.

"I fucking care," he growled. "You want to know what happened, Ana?" he asked, slightly breathless, his teeth nipping at the edge of her jaw as he paused. "I beat the shit out of him. **That's** what happened," he whispered against her ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth and releasing it when she let out a whine.

"You did?" she asked, her body sagging a little, like some tension had left her in relief at his words.

"Yes."

"Good," she sighed.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yes. Good. I would have done it myself if I could have. I _wanted_ to do it myself. I'm sick of being victimized," she said offhandedly, but with painful sincerity.

And suddenly it all made sense to him. Her directing her anger toward him wasn't about concern for her job, or concern for Jack. This was about Ana losing control at the hands of someone else. Again. Stephen Morton, Carla Adams, Elena Lincoln, Jack Hyde. All of them had taken advantage of her trusting and sweet personality, and she was rightfully angry. It wasn't that she disapproved of Christian exacting physical revenge on Hyde. If anything, it was that she wasn't there to witness justice being served to Hyde. She had no justice with Morton. Nor Carla, nor Elena, even though she'd tried for it in Elena's case. She'd wanted to be present for it so she knew it had been dealt with for her own peace of mind. That's what all this attitude was from her—just a culmination of her fear manifesting as anger. By kicking her out of the office, Christian had taken her power away from her. This was certainly a concept Christian could understand. He pulled back from her, looking her in the eyes so she knew what he was about to say was sincere.

"I'm sorry I made you worry, but you have to understand that I needed to keep you safe. For all I knew, he could have had a weapon. If he'd hurt you worse, I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself. I was just so worried about you," he said softly.

"Yeah, well I was worried about you too, Christian. You think I could have forgiven myself if he'd done something to you?"

"But he wasn't trying to do to me what he was trying to do to you, Ana," he said pointedly. "He could have…. If I hadn't—if he'd—fuck," he sighed, gripping his hair at the roots for the millionth time in the last hour.

"But he didn't," she said, her voice instantly calmer, soothing as she saw him get worked up over the possible outcome of this evening. He felt her hand cover his, tugging his fingers from his hair. He looked down, seeing her standing there in front of him, her eyes full of concern. For him. She had been through this whole horrible ordeal, yet she was focusing her concern on him. Always so caring. Always so selfless. "He didn't because you were there, okay Christian? And I've done a terrible job of showing it, but you have to know I am unbelievably thankful to you for that. Don't stress yourself out over the could-have's. He didn't. And I'm okay, I promise," she said, her voice now soft and calming. Her fingers were still wrapped tightly around his hands, squeezing them gently.

He pulled his hands from hers, moving them up and taking her face in his hands, his right thumb sliding gingerly over a hot, raw mark on her cheek that was evidence of a blow she'd taken to the face that he hadn't been witness to. She winced and he pulled his thumb back, framing her face at her hairline with the length of his thumbs as his fingers curled around the back of her head.

"How can you be okay?" he whispered, his eyes so intense as they bore into hers. How was she always so resilient? She shrugged, barely, her eyes locked on his. They were so close. "How are you so strong?"

"I'm not," she said weakly, her voice cracking slightly.

"You are," he insisted. "You're so incredible Ana. You're so—" he was cut off by the ding of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, but he just ignored their arrival. This elevator would only move if someone with the code called for it, so it would remain just outside the entrance of his penthouse until Taylor and Sawyer returned from SIP. The doors opened and closed again without either making a move to exit.

The interruption was just as well, because he couldn't think of words appropriate enough to do justice to what he thought of Ana. There was no way to tell her what he felt in this moment, no way to verbally express what she meant to him, how scared he'd been, how relieved he was that she was okay. Everything came out wrong. All of his feelings always came out in lashes of anger. He didn't know how to tell her that if she's been broken by Hyde, that it would have killed a part of him. He couldn't tell her.

But he could show her.

Slowly, this time, without the aid of instantaneous, aggressive surprise, he leaned down and he closed the distance between their lips. The outer edge of his palms cocked slightly in order to tilt her jaw up, aligning them perfectly.

His lips touched hers gently, ghosting so softly over hers that he wasn't completely sure they'd actually touched. But still, a tingle traveled the length of his spine, igniting things in his body he wasn't sure he'd ever felt. He paused for a moment in order to collect himself. Then with his thumb on the tip of her chin, he put pressure on her jaw, urging her to open her mouth. When her lips parted, he kissed her fully. He inhaled against her, the scent of her shampoo filling his head and adding to the complete all-encompassing feeling of this moment. Another deep breath caused a light hint of spice to hit his olfactory senses. His hands instantly began to work off the suit jacket that was draped over her shoulders, Sawyer's, he was sure. Though the gesture had been well intentioned, respectable, and admirable, the last thing Christian wanted in this moment was to be hit with whiffs of the scent of another man. He wanted to smell _her_, and maybe him on her, but nothing else.

But in his haste to remove it, his fingers caught the fabric of her own shirt and it slid down her arms as if it was all one attached piece. If she minded, she didn't let on as she did nothing but let his mouth continue to indulge in her own.

After the last inches of the fabric slipped past her finger tips and fluttered softly to the floor, Christian pressed her arms flat against the wall behind her, then placed the tips of his index fingers on the tips of hers and slow dragged them up, passing her wrists, up her forearms, through the crooks of her elbows, up and over her upper arms to her shoulders. The pad of his other fingers joined his index there, where they traced down the slope of her collarbones before widening their route down past the outer curve of her breasts toward her ribcage. As the swell of her ribs tapered into her waist, his right arm encircled her torso, pulling her body flush with his own as his left hand found the tips of the long hair cascading down her back, tugging it lightly to tilt her head up higher, opening her up to him further.

The intensity amped up as their kisses became increasingly more passionate. Her hands left the wall and found his hair, her fingers sinking into it and tugging gently at first, but as with the kisses, the tugging increased to an almost desperate yanking. A little moan here, a little whimper there punctuated their long, fervent kisses. He felt his suit pants tightening as any blood flow that might have kept him thinking clearly abandoned his brain and headed south. Ana's hips jutted forward to make contact with the now prominent bulge in his pants, rubbing against it with a groan. Unable to keep his hands in one place for very long, they were on the move again, caressing the soft skin of her sides, down the front of her tummy, his fingertip swirling once around her belly button before his hand spread back out and caught her hip. He pushed her back against the wall, opening a few inches of space between them now.

There was the briefest moment, as his mouth continued to devour hers and his hand slid down the sides of her skirt, brushing her outer thighs before gripping the fabric and starting to pull it up to expose her legs, that he wondered what in the hell he was doing. She'd just been attacked. What if it had traumatized her? What if him touching her made her think of Jack touching her? He couldn't stomach it if she associated him in any way to that low life piece of shit. This could be a very bad idea.

But his fingers worked of their own volition even as his mind spun these thoughts. And the second his middle finger tip rode up the feather soft skin of her inner thigh and felt the moist heat emanating from between the very apex of her legs, all previous thoughts disintegrated completely.

His finger tip sought her out with veneration, ghosting over cotton-covered hallowed ground.

Christ, she was definitely wet.

Wet for _him_.

The thought drove him wild. Fuck, how had he not seen her like this before now?

Ana. Beautiful, sweet, funny, perfect Ana. _This_ was what he wanted to feel with a woman, _for_ a woman. His heart was pounding, his head was swimming, his breathing was rapid, his dick was throbbing. Every aspect of his emotional and physical being was in perfect alignment, buzzing for her, **all** of her, _only_ her.

Finally his lips pulled back from hers, his body leaning back but his feet refusing to put any real distance between them. His eyes immediately found her red, swollen lips glistening with the evidence of their intense kissing. Her cheeks were flushed, the redness from the hit she'd taken masked with the blush of desire. Her chest heaved slightly with every breath, her breasts jutting out from her pale pink bra. Her skin was warmed everywhere, heated with lust. The sensible charcoal shirt she was wearing was bunched up around her hips, exposing long, pale thigh all the way up to their juncture at her hips.

Her body was worlds away from what it had been at sixteen. Still slender with the same soft, pale skin, but more filled out, her hips and breasts accentuating the womanliness of her figure. Every soft curve begged to be caressed, kissed, licked, sucked until her body was careening, desperate to get both further away and closer to him.

He looked in her eyes, searching. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to risk bursting the bubble they had found themselves in here. This was not them. They didn't do these things. They didn't get flirty, didn't get touchy. Sure, there had been a very few instances when those things had occurred, but in the months of time they'd spent together that was by far the exception, not the rule. So what was happening now was completely out of left field, completely surprising. This hadn't been where they were headed, it had never felt like their inevitability. Not to him. Not until now. Now, suddenly, it was like everything had clicked into place, that the planets had aligned and that it was obvious that this was always where they had been headed, he just hadn't known it. But now that it was happening, he wanted it. He wanted it, wanted her so badly he would do almost anything to make sure this night progressed into more than kissing and feeling her up against the wall.

So he looked at her, really looked at her, his eyes lucid, openly questioning this. Was this okay? Was his intent for this night acceptable to her after everything that had happened- between them, to her tonight, after everything- was it okay?

And with a gentle nip of that plump bottom lip, followed by the smallest of smiles, she leaned her head back against the wall. With her eyes closed, her hands moved behind her, a short zipping sound was heard, quiet but audible, and seconds later her skirt puddled at her feet on the elevator floor. Her eyes opened, glazed with desire from under hooded eyelids, staring assured and unwaveringly into his.

Message sent. Message received.

His hands found her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around him like they were made to be there. He hit the button to reopen the elevator doors, then quickly exited, her head tucked between his neck and his shoulder, her hot breath bathing his neck just before a sudden lash of her tongue against his jaw had him rushing even more, wanting to kiss her again but needing to be able to see where he was going as he carried her.

Upon entering his room, his reality came crashing down around him. He absently slapped at the light switch, bathing the room in softened light. His large bed, the main focal point of the room, loomed even larger with thoughts of what it represented. Instead of taking her to it, he stopped a few feet inside of the threshold of the doorway. He hadn't taken a woman in his room before. What would happen in here? Vanilla sex? Could he do that? What if she tried to touch him? Right now she was okay. Her hands were currently wrapped around his shoulder, her fingers gripping his hair tightly. But for how long? Any moment she should reach down and touch him. The thought made his whole body tense immediately. The sudden urge to restrain her overtook him.

He turned and closed the bedroom door part way before setting her gently back down on the ground, his hands running down her arms, pulling them behind her back so he could clasp both wrists in one hand. He felt his heart rate slow again, his fear easing knowing she couldn't touch him in this moment. She looked up at him, clearly sensing his internal struggle. She looked confused and suddenly unsure. Like she wasn't sure if she was about to be rejected. He ran his free hand down her face, cupping her chin gently and placing a few chaste kisses to her lips and one on her cheek before he spoke. "I've never done anything like this," he whispered, trying to reassure her that this wasn't a rejection, and wasn't at her expense. But he needed to tell her, to get his fears of the moment in the open.

"What do you mean?" she asked, breaking her loosest wrist free from his grasp and running her fingertip down the angle of his jaw. He caught her hand, kissing her palm before pulling it down and holding it behind her back with her other hand again.

"Any of this- kissing like this. Being with a person who had a real presence in my life- a friend," he said, placing a kiss on her lips. "Like I told you in my playroom that day, I've never had sex outside of the context of BDSM."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to do this Christian," she said, pulling her body a few inches away from his, attempting to putting distance between them, only to have his hands tighten around her wrists slightly while his hips followed hers, pushing her into the bedroom door behind her until it clicked closed softly.

"I want to try. I want this so badly. I just- don't know how," he admitted, the fingertips of his free hand tracing her collarbone before his lips replaced them, caressing her skin until they met her throat.

She let out a low moan. "Then what...," she panted, "What do we need to do to make this comfortable for you? I want this to be comfortable for both of us. So what is the first thing that pops into your mind that is making you uneasy?"

"Your hands," he replied instantly.

"My hands?" she asked, subconsciously twisting her wrists in his palm.

"Yes. You're not restrained. And with my touch phobia, I'm scared shitless that you'll touch me in a no-go area."

"Ok," she acknowledged with a nod. "You're right. I forgot, and in the moment, I probably would have. I can promise you I would try not to, but I'm assuming that in order for you to be comfortable, you need to know I physically _can't_, correct? Not just hear me tell you that I won't." She felt him nod in her neck, his lips still sucking at the thin skin of her throat. "Ok. I will agree to that. I agree to have my hands restrained."

"You do?" he finally looked at her again, his eyes full of skepticism.

"Yes," she let out in a breath, letting her hips roll up into his lightly for some friction. He let out a low groan at the contact. "What else do you need?"

His lips moved to her chest as he thought for a minute. Normally, a lot more. Blindfolds, promises of complete submission, a contract, a basic safety net promising him that this was free of emotions. But he could not ask her for any of those things. Because that's not what this was. That's not who she was. And if she was willing to concede so quickly to the one thing he _needed_, he truly felt he could make do without the rest. He would not turn this into a scene with her. This wasn't a _scene_. This was an honest to God living moment in his life, and lord knows he didn't have many of those, at least not before she came into his life. This wasn't sex for the sake of sex. This wasn't sex to sate a physical need, to obtain a mere orgasm. This was something more- to sate something _deeper_ that he'd never felt before.

"Just you," he finally admitted, the words causing a little moan to leave her lips. He loved her little moans. Her little noises. She was so sexy pressed flush against him, panting lightly, sighing sweetly. It was all so feminine. Everything about her was sweet and soft and tender.

"Do you need to go get handcuffs or something?" she asked, her wandering fingers indicating that she was already feeling the itch to touch his skin.

"No," he said roughly. "No handcuffs. I don't want to use something 'official'. I just want something ordinary. I want to improvise."

"Then what?" she asked, seeming eager to move this along.

His eyes burned a molten grey as he released her hands and took a couple steps back, slowly pulling on the already loosened knot of his tie. He watched the wave of lust flood her eyes as she recognized his intention to tie her up with his tie. She bit her lip, pressing herself harder into the door behind her, obviously trying to contain the ragged breaths that wanted to escape as her whole body flushed. He smirked a little. She wasn't merely putting up with this because he was fucked up and needed it. It appealed to her, on some level, too. And that eased his mind about the whole thing considerably.

"I'm not going to tie you _to_ anything," he said in a low, sensual voice. "I'm just going to tie your hands together. It will serve as a reminder to you about my needs. I want to meet you half way. But I am trusting you to not touch me. So please don't abuse that trust."

"I won't. I would never, Christian," she sighed as he took her wrists and began to bind them together with the silver/gray tie.

When he was done, he stepped back again to admire her. She looked so sexy in her matching innocent pale pink underwear set, hands bound, lips swollen from their kissing, hair slightly mussed in the back. Her chest heaved slightly as they just stared at each other. "You look so beautiful," he muttered. watching her flush all over again at his words. He saw her shift slightly on her feet, immediately knowing she was so aroused that she was having a hard time standing still. "Can I remove your bra?"

She groaned as she nodded, watching him step forward and take her restrained hands in his own in order to pull her away from the wall. He pressed his lips to hers, his hand gliding from her hips around her back where they deftly popped the clasp open, the strapless bra falling to the floor and leaving her exposed in mere seconds. The coolness of the surrounding air hit her now exposed skin, her nipples puckering immediately.

His lips worked hers slowly for another few moments before he broke the kiss and stooped down, wrapping them around her nipple. Her chest thrust forward toward his mouth, but he moved as well, intending to keep his touch very light. His tongue teased around her areola slowly, and when her nipple glistened with his saliva, he blew a steady stream of air over it, watching it further tighten. His index finger and thumb found the neglected bud of her other breast, toying with it gently as his lips began teasing and pulling at her wet nipple once again. The way she writhed under his ministrations sent waves of power through him. She was so fucking responsive, and knowing that this response was to _him_ was heady. Worried by her intense reaction that she might actually come if he kept playing with her nipples like this, he stopped and pulled back, taking in the sight of her standing there in nothing but a tiny pair of panties and five inch heels. As he knelt before her, his hands started at her ankles, sliding up the sides of her silky smooth calves, then moving to the backs of her thighs once he reached her knees. He stood fluidly, his hands never stopping until they cupped the round curve of her ass. He pulled her to him, letting her feel his erection dig against her belly.

God, he could just take her right here, right now against this wall, he was so ready. But he didn't want to rush it. For the first time since he was a teenager, he felt a slight waiver in his iron clad sexual control. But he refused to give in to it. He wanted more from this than a quickie against a wall. No, he was no longer trying to fool himself into thinking this was just about rectifying the past. But he still wanted to show her, prove to her what he was capable of. He had a reputation as a man who truly knew how to satisfy a woman, and there was no one in the world he wanted to satisfy more than Ana Steele.

So he again hoisted her up effortlessly, feeling those long legs wrap around his waist again as he pulled back from the wall. He traversed the few yards to his bed, leaning down to place her gently on the plush, blue surface. And fuck if she didn't look like she belonged there. There was no hesitancy, no uncertainty. He wanted her, here in his room, on his bed, in a way no woman had ever had him. He ached for it now, deeply. This was the place Ana had in his life. She had always been different. All of it, everything they'd been through from years ago to the most recent events, it was all inevitably leading to him bringing her here, with him, where she belonged.

"Lie back," he instructed, watching her do so immediately. "Bring your knees up. Spread your legs. Wider. Perfect," he said, watching her spread her legs and open herself for his visual pleasure. He rocked back on his heels, taking in the sight of her spread out for him. The very edges of the thin panel of cotton teased the crevice between her thighs, just barely covering everything he was anxious to see. He had to resist the urge to rip them off of her right now, and it was difficult, but somehow he managed, not wanting to rush this. He wanted to take in this moment fully, every second, really, and commit each individual one to memory, before moving on to the next. So he took a minute to just admire he like this, laying there, spread eagle for him.

God, her body was outrageous. His leaned forward and trailed his lips across the lower curve of her rib cage to the midline of her body. His tongue pressed down and trailed a slow line to her belly button, where it circled teasingly. His fingertips trailed up her outer thighs, not stopping until his hands were holding her hips.

His lips glided over to her hip bone, then began to leave a trail of long sucking kisses down the crease of her thigh. His hands pressed to the back of her thighs, pushing them up and out wider to give him more room to explore and work. His nose nuzzled just outside of her wet flesh, tracing the length of it as he inhaled deeply, causing them both to let out simultaneous groans.

He brought a finger down, tracing the same line his nose had, from her hips all the way down before hooking it just inside the damp fabric. "I think we can take these off," he said. The little tug he gave had her hips automatically lifting from the bed, allowing him access to remove them fully. In a swift movement, they were down her thighs and coming off the tips of her heels.

He thought about how sexy and powerful an image that was, that pair of panties wrapped around Ana's feet which were still clad in sky-high heels. Hell, for a second he considered running to the playroom to grab his camera and snap the picture right now, then get it blown up and hung up on the wall in his bedroom so he could look at it forever.

His eyes traveling up her silky smooth legs. Damn, he'd take picture of those too. And her ass, maybe with her looking back over her shoulder at him, biting that lip a little, her long hair mussed up and hang down her back, her torso turned to the side so there was just a hint of the curve of her full breast visible, maybe with a lock of hair strategically placed to cover her tight pink nipple. And of course he'd need a shot of the coup de grace, the sweet spot between her legs. His eyes took it in in all its glory. Pink and wet and beautiful, so fucking beautiful. Had he ever seen a more beautiful pussy before? Lord knows he'd seen plenty. But there was something about hers… He would take that picture with some kind of high definition camera, maybe with Ana's slim fingers placed on either side, just barely spreading the moist slit open. He could buy her some jewelry, a diamond ring and a bracelet to wear, marking her as his even in the photo. That one wouldn't go on the wall, though. That would be just for him. He would be very happy if no one else could ever, ever be allowed to see her this way but him for the rest of their lives.

Lost in his mini-fantasy, he realized he'd just been blankly staring at her now naked body without even moving when she spoke, pulling his attention to her face. "Sorry if there are cobwebs, it's been awhile," she said trying to disguise her slight anxiousness with humor.

He smirked, taking a long pointed look between her legs before saying, "Nope, looks fresh and juicy to me."

She blushed, her mouth popping open slightly, not knowing what to say. He grinned a little wider, knowing she hadn't expected him to joke back with her. Even though he joked around more often with her than with anyone else in his life, it still really wasn't his MO, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was unsure about what he was doing, and it appeared by the look in those baby blues and she was thinking he was displeased with was he was looking at. This situation was so new for them, he didn't want her thinking he saw her as anything less than the perfection she was, but he thought a little ice breaking would do them more good in this moment than softly confessing words of total adoration for her body. The Ana he knew would likely blow them off, not take him as seriously as he was about her appearance. So it was better to tease her back and ease her tension that way than have her think he was pandering to her ego.

He saw the smile in her eyes, yet the traces of tension still around her mouth. He wanted to wipe away that tension and get her back to living in the moment with him. "Let's see if everything still works," he said, lowering himself between her thighs. He ghosted a finger over her clit, watching her tense. "That's working properly," he breathed against her thigh. Let's see about this," he mumbled, slipping a long finger inside of her and curling it forward.

"Oh God," she groaned, throwing her head back as he put pressure on her g-spot. "Yep, that works too," he said, knowing he had her again, completely open and willing to explore this situation once more. "And of course we have to check the taste," he said, smirking up at her with a wink before dipping his head down. He teased a barely there lick across her clit before flattening his tongue and sinking it down between her folds and plunging it inside of her, the whole time pumping his finger in a steady rhythm into her g spot. She squirmed and whined from the back of her throat as he continued to dip his tongue in and out of her slowly, savoring her. He pulled back, his lips glistening with her amply present arousal. "Mmm," he hummed in approval, licking it from his lips deliberately slowly. "Impeccable, baby," he whispered, removing his hand from between her legs. "Your pussy is perfect working order."

He watched her lift her head, her eyebrows drawn together in question as he pulled away from her, standing at the edge of the bed in front of her. Her confusion dissipated however, as he reached for his shirt, undoing the topmost button. Her head full back to the bed below her but her eyes stayed trained on his body. He made quick work of his dress shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and tossing it on the floor next to the bed. Next, he reached down the back of his undershirt, gripped it between his shoulder blades and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it too aside. He watched her thighs clench and knees turn slightly inward as her eyes slowly slid the length of torso, taking in the sight of him greedily.

With no desire to draw this part out, he made quick work of his belt buckle, pants button, and zipper, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pants before lowering them simultaneously down below his hips, past his rock hard erection, and down his thighs until gravity took them to the ground.

His eyes were glued to hers, which we glued to his body the whole time he disrobed. Her watched her eyes dance with desire, her breathing altering even further, her various muscle groups flexing as she fought to control the lust that raged in her.

Once his shoes and socks joined his pile of discarded clothing, he placed a knee on the bed between her legs, wrapped an arm around her waist, and slid her body further up onto the mattress. He felt his erection bobbing between them, bouncing against her thigh, hitting the wetness between her legs, and bobbing back away while he attempted to align their bodies in order to feel as much of her pressed against him as possible.

The heat coming off of her was insane, and her hips were rising to meet his in an attempt to cause the friction he knew she was craving. His instinct was to tell her not to move, and it took everything in him to control the urge to do so. But he didn't want to make their sex about what he was used to.

"There's a million and one things I want to do to your body," he panted lightly, "But for now I just want to see what it's like when two people give themselves to each other. Not when one gives and one takes."

She let out a breathy sigh as she nodded. He had no desire to further prolong the inevitable. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her lips lightly before asking, "Condom?" He was clean, he knew. And he knew that the smart play would be to use one regardless. Without a paper in hand promising her clean bill of health as well as confirmation of birth control, he knew the only smart choice was to protect them both with a condom. But there was nothing in the world he could think of that he wanted more than to feel her skin to skin. And if she gave the okay, he trusted her enough to be truthful with him if there was a reason on her end for him to be wearing one.

"No condom," she said, her voice tinged with desperation. "Please," she whimpered, her hips raising again, sliding her wet slit against him. He increased the pressure of his hips against hers in response.

Tilting his pelvis slightly, he glided forward, his length bypassing her entrance and instead slipping up the length of her slit. He rubbed against her, his shaft applying a moderate amount of pressure to her clit.

"Oh," she said, the word catching on a hitch as he ground his hard length against her, the movements literally jolting her breath from her lungs. After pinning her under his searching hips for a torturously long few seconds, he gave her a reprieve, pulling back agonizingly slowly until the tip of his erection teased a breath away from her entrance. He paused again, waiting, watching her face contort into displeasure as her hips pushed down, tilting, seeking him out. He smiled but gave her nothing.

Her eyes sought his next, just as urgent as her hips. They turned pleading as soon as they locked with his.

"Christian," she whined his name. He basked in the way it sounded on her lips. Whiney, breathy, moaning, he didn't care. Hearing his name on her lips was heaven in any capacity.

With a lick of his lips and near painful slowness, he realigned with her entrance and pushed forward, sliding every inch of himself inside of her until their hips met and he could go no further.

And God, the moan she let out was incredible. She fit him like a glove, like they were made for each other. She groaned out an "Oh God, Christian," that lit him on fire.

"Are you okay," he panted out, holding still inside of her while he regained his bearings. In place of words, she just released an even louder moan, her hips pressing up and pushing him impossibly further up inside of her to the point where he dropped his forehead down on her shoulder in order to keep himself from coming on the spot.

Once he recovered from the initial intensity of the moment, he caught her face in his hands, pressing his lips to her, kissing her with fervor. It was slow but intense, deep and all consuming, and slowly his hips started to rock in time with his ardent tongue.

She was undulating underneath him and it was all so new. To hear his name roll off her lips as her body rolled against his with abandon- it was all so different and he was desperate for more.

He wanted to be the way she was- act the way she was acting. But he just couldn't find it in himself to give up that much control. This was already so different from anything he'd ever done. But to completely let loose? To call out her name and moan and grunt and groan? He just couldn't.

So he focused on her. Every second of this was going to be about her. What he could do to hear her moan louder, pant heavier, scream harder. She was alive underneath him and it was incredible. He'd never experienced a woman unleashed like this. He'd never cared to. Requiring a woman to control all of these things was what turned him on. But Ana out of control was the biggest turn on in his life.

He was so used to fucking so roughly, but he knew that wasn't what he wanted for them tonight. He wanted her like this—very deliberate. This… this was what he wanted. This was everything he wanted when he'd talked to Flynn about being able to try being normal.

And now he knew it was Ana he wanted with him, next to him, underneath him. It was her he wanted to spend nights with, take to public events, and crawl on top of and inside of nightly in his bed. She belonged with him.

He was so oblivious before. Fighting so long, so hard about who she was to him, what she meant to him. It was obvious now. His mind, his thoughts were lucid, the haze replaced with crystal clear transparency. She was _everything_ to him.

This sweet, beautiful woman. She was the light of his life, the woman who made him feel complete. The blood was racing in his veins now, flamed with want and need for this woman, filled with voracious love for her.

The shift of realization was like an awakening of his entire being. His mind, body and soul now existed for her. He was a different man the moment he realized the extent of what he felt for her. He was a better man because of her. He wanted to be a better man _for_ her.

Fuck. Was this love?

Could he love Ana?

Looking down on her, watching her face, her pleasure, her desire. He'd do anything for her. Give anything to her. Was that love? If it was, then… yes, loving Ana could be easy.

_Ana. Ana. Ana._

It was a mantra that repeated in his head with every pounding thrust into her body. It wasn't scary. It was thrilling. He _could_ do the things he'd recently come to believe himself capable of. He _could_ be that guy. With **Ana**. That's why it hadn't worked with Cara tonight. Or why no one else ever caught his attention. Because it was never meant to be anyone else. It was always, _always_ Ana.

She was coming undone quickly underneath him and there was nothing in the world that he wanted more than to watch her. Her head tilted back, her full lips parted slightly,

_Come_, he insisted, though he wasn't sure if he'd screamed it out loud or just in his mind.

Either way, she complied. It was otherworldly, watching her completely fall apart under him. With no holds barred, she let out a moan that shot straight to his groin, her insides so intensely tight he was sure he was about to lose all control and let go himself.

"Oh, Christian," she groaned with this combination of breathy stiltedness and utter guttural satisfaction that had him glorying in her release. Still he managed to withhold his own.

He gave her a moment, only gently grinding inside of her in circular motion so as to prolong the moments of her ecstasy and give him enough sensation to keep him teetering on the edge. He wasn't done with her yet. It had been too quick. He'd wanted it- to see her come for him with such force so swiftly, but now he needed to slow down and revel in every inch of her, possess her so completely to even have a hope of satisfying this ache he had for her.

When she finally started to come down, her eyes blinked open, still glazed over with post orgasmic bliss. His lips found hers, relishing the feeling of her tongue immediately seeking his out. His hips still rolled against hers, digging his length into her with a reserved desperation.

"That was nice," she muttered, her voice thick as her eyelids sat heavy and half closed. Her pupils were dilated but he could still see that thin line of clear blue iris from beneath her hooded lids.

"Nice?" he found himself voicing with an incredulous, semi-affronted tone.

A lazy smile spread across her lips. "Very nice."

"We can do better than 'nice' don't you think?" he asked, his lips pressing to the lobe of her ear as he dug his knee into the mattress and pressed himself impossibly further into her. He wasn't done with her, not by far.

They had a long night ahead of them.


	18. Chapter 18

The edges of his peripheral vision were hazy, like he was existing in a small clearing inside of a cloud. He looked around him, only now registering he was standing in his playroom, shirtless, faded jeans unbuttoned. When had he come in here? When had he put on his Dom clothes? Why?

Then through the haze, he saw movement. He looked over, seeing Ana tied up on his St. Andrew's cross. What the fuck? He was sure he'd looked at it moments ago and she hadn't been there. Her back was to him and she was stark naked, motionless, like a perfect little sub. He recognized from the straps wrapped around her head that she was both blindfolded and gagged. Immediately he felt himself react to the scene, his heart rate increasing, his breath becoming shallower, his back straightening, jaw tightening, eyes hardening as he felt the Dominant who always dwelled just below his surface take over his body. It had been so long since he'd gotten to don his Dominant persona. He didn't stop to question the situation again. He just inherently reacted: if Ana was on a cross for him in his playroom, he was going to take full advantage.

He approached her immediately, only just noticing when the music began to play overhead. His fingers trailed the various implements he used to punish his submissives. When they reached the black leather belt, they slowly descended the length before removing it from its home on the rack. Eager to see that tight little ass glow pink, he readied the belt in his hand, took his stance, and struck. It all happened so quickly, so automatically, so void of thought, like instinct.

She didn't move. Not even a flinch. He struck again. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He dropped the belt. Called her name.

_Ana?_

Nothing.

He moved swiftly to her side and touched her.

Cold.

She was so cold.

He swallowed, hard and painfully.

_Ana?_

His voice was shakier now. And quiet. It came from his throat with the pain of a scream, but was barely a whisper.

He removed the ball gag and looked at her face.

Not Ana.

_Mommy?_

Suddenly they weren't in his playroom. They were in his childhood apartment. He was not a dominant. He was not a man. He was a little boy. His stomach ached. He was so hungry. His chest and back hurt. He looked down to see his too short t-shirt with the burn holes in it covering his chest. He looks down at his toes, feeling the sticky, matted carpet between them. There's something to his left. She's on the floor now, in front of the couch. Still motionless.

_Mommy?_

He pleads to the body lying on the floor, dressed in dirty, tattered clothing. He reaches down to touch her arm.

Cold.

So cold.

She was still wearing the blindfold. Hesitantly he reached for it, pulling it from her face.

Blue eyes.

Lifeless blue eyes stare up wide open at him.

_Ana._

He starts to cry. A heavy tear drops down off the tip of his nose and it lands on her face. In her eye. It seeps from the corner and down her cheek.

He's back in the playroom. He's a man again. Dominant. Ana is on his cross and she's crying, a single tear seeping from the corner of her eye and down her cheek.

Angry red welts adorn her backside. The belt is in his hands.

"What did** I** do wrong?" she whimpers softly.

He drops the belt.

"I'm sorry," he barely forced from his lips. He can't breathe. His chest hurts, seeing her like this is pure agony.

She's sixteen with blood between her thighs.

_Anastasia._

But only for a moment. Then she's a woman again, Ana again.

He rushes to her, unbuckles the straps holding her to the cross. She collapses to the ground in a heap. She's lying at the bottom of the cross. But she's not alone. Two small, brunettes lay motionless at the bottom of the cross. His chest feels so heavy.

_Ana._

_Mommy. _

He kneels to help them. There's a movement to his left.

Brunettes.

Everywhere.

Lined up, one after another after another, all in their panties, on their knees, palms up on their thighs, heads down. All facing him. Waiting for him. How many? Too many.

He looked back to his right. Ana and his birth mother are on their knees too, heads down.

They wait.

They all wait,

For him.

He ignores everyone but Ana.

He walks over to her, stops in front of her. She stays still.

"Look at me."

It's a plea, not a demand. He just needs to know she's okay. He's not a dominant right now.

Dozens of heads sweep up in one motion, all looking at him now.

"Yes, sir?" they chorus like robots.

His stomach roils. He ignores them all but her.

He reaches down for Ana's hand. She places her hand in his and he tugs her up.

She's looking at him, waiting. Docile. She wants instruction. He hates it. Where's her fire? He wants to see that light in her eyes.

"I don't want this for you."

* * *

Christian woke up drenched in sweat, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

In an instant, memories of last night came tumbling back to him as his nose filled with the scents of the room, her hair, her skin, their sex. His skin came alive as he recognized the feel of her smooth skin against the length of him, her naked back pressed against his front, her sweet ass curving against his hips, her long legs tangled in his. His arms were wrapped around her, her head resting on his left bicep, her arm trapped against her side by his right arm that held her tightly just under her breastbone. He was clinging to her like python wrapped around its prey, like he was trying to ensure no escape.

_Kinda pathetic, Grey_. But he dismissed the thought immediately. Truthfully, he wasn't ashamed. If anything he was proud of himself that he was able to find this level of comfort in another person. Even in his subconscious state, he was drawn to her, and comfortable enough with her to find this level of trust. It was huge. Everything about last night and this moment was huge for him. And he didn't regret a second of it, not one single second. This was everything he'd been fighting against for months, but now that he had it, he never wanted to be without. The dream he'd just had confirmed it.

He _didn't_ want that with her. He _knew_ that. He'd never before let his mind wander to what he could eventually really want from Ana, but he did know it was never a Dom/sub relationship. But that was why he also always thought he could never want _anything_ with her. Because Dom/sub was all he did. But that dream was telling him something. It was telling him he saw her differently. It was telling him he saw his _whole life_ differently _because _of **her**. He saw women differently. He saw his subs differently. He saw his birth mom differently. And he saw how they all fit into his life now, _differently_. He felt so at peace. Even though the nightmare had been horrible, it had just been confirmation to him that last night had meant so much more to him than anything else he'd experienced in his life so far. Ana had changed him, and he was sick of trying to fight the change.

The light knock on his bedroom door startled him, and he realized that must have been what initially woke him from his dream. The shades were drawn, but beams of the first breaks of sunlight were streaming through the gaps at the sides letting him know that even though it was only dawn, it was also later than he normally slept. Closing his eyes again, he willed both the sun and Taylor, who was surely behind the knock on the door, to go away so he could stay in bed and sleep some more. Sleep had always seemed like a waste to him. Sure, there were times when he'd like to be able to sleep a little more normally, but the truth was that the fact that he spent more hours awake than most allowed him extra time to work, to run, to simply do more in his day. It allowed him a sliver more success over the opposition, because he simply had more time to devote to various things in his life. But today, he didn't want to get out of this bed.

The light knock came again, drawing Christian from his thoughts. Slowly, and with disappointment, he unwrapped himself from Ana, careful not to wake her. He took the sheet and draped it over her naked body all the way up to her neck, ensuring Taylor couldn't possibly catch a glimpse of her body. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his dresser drawer and tugged them up over his hips just as he turned the doorknob, hoping to eliminate the chance of another knock that might wake Ana. She needed her sleep. She'd been kept up all night, he thought to himself with a smirk.

The smirk must have still been present on his lips when he opened the door, because his right hand man had a look of surprise on his face for a nanosecond before his impassive mask slid back into place.

"Mr. Grey," his deep voice rumbled out lowly, making it obvious he knew there was still someone sleeping in the room. "Sorry to disturb you, but you have an early meeting. And the police are anxious to get your statement about last night. So we have to accommodate time for that this morning as well, but we still need to debrief the situation prior to that meeting. I think Welch should sit in with us and Sawyer prior to that meeting. Obviously the detectives want to meet with Miss Steele too, but I have managed to push that off until this afternoon. I thought it pertinent to discuss everything with the security team prior to any official meetings with the police department. I waited as long as I could to wake you."

The debriefing. Fuck, he'd forgotten that he'd told Taylor and Sawyer to meet him back here last night for it. He'd been… otherwise occupied. The thought of them showing up later for the meeting had been the last thing on his mind once he'd gotten Ana in his bed. He nodded his agreement, knowing that this meeting was necessary, and hating that the images of what happened at SIP were interrupting the highlight reel from the latter part of the night, which had been playing since he'd made the comment to himself about her needing her sleep. "I'll be ready in thirty."

He moved to close the door, but Taylor cleared his throat, causing him to pause. He saw the slight discomfort in Taylor's expression, something else he wasn't used it. It was only as he moved to hand something to Christian that Christian even realized he was holding anything. "Here are the clothes we procured for Miss Steele from when she was in the hospital. I have the torn blouse from last night in my possession to hand over to the police, and Gail has the skirt to launder, but she needs clothes for the day, so I figured these would suffice."

Christian's face screwed up in confusion. How did Taylor have access to Ana's blouse and skirt? Wait. Shit. They'd left them on the floor of the elevator. Well no wonder Taylor didn't even attempt to come knocking on his bedroom door last night. Christ.

"Thank you," Christian nodded, taking the bag and dismissing him. He pulled the clothes out, laying them out on the chaise lounge that was adjacent to the patio window, making sure they were conspicuous for Ana to find later.

Glancing at the clock, he noted the time. Taylor was right, he had truly waited until the last possible minute to wake him. If he was to arrive at Grey House on time, he needed to get done. But it was distracting, knowing Ana was asleep no more than twenty feet away from him right now, lying in his bed. Looking fucking perfect. Like an angel. She'd slept through the whole interaction with Taylor, not even stirring a little bit. He'd contemplated waking her, but she just looked so perfect lying there that he couldn't bring himself to do it.

So he'd forced himself into the bathroom to shower and shave and get dressed. He wanted to skip everything and just stay in bed with her. Wake her up and repeat every single fucking second of yesterday, literally. But he knew he couldn't. The debriefing before meeting with the police was important. Meeting with the police itself was important. And to top it off, the meeting he had scheduled just could not be missed, as badly as he wished he could. He was the CEO. He should be able to blow off anything he wanted to. And if he ran a shitty company, he could. But he ran a good company. A hard working, successful company full of good, diligent employees who were that way because he demanded they be that way or get fired. Because he led his company by example. He held no one who worked for him to a higher standard than he held himself. Professionalism. He oozed it. Efficiency. Competency. His company thrived on these things. So no, he could not cancel these very important meetings to lie in bed with Ana all morning.

The clock was ticking. He'd told Taylor to be ready in a half hour, and that time would be here in five minutes. He had to wake her. So gently he sat down on the edge of his bed, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He could get used to this, having her here, in his bed every morning. The idea of it, he thought, should have scared him. But it just… didn't. The thought of Ana being his was pure and good, not frightening as he once would have found it. It had all become so clear to him, what he wanted from her now. He wanted normal with her. He wanted her to be his. His partner. His lover. His girlfriend. His everything.

His fingers traced a delicate line from her inner elbow to her collarbone, and as a result she let out a light moan. It ignited something in him, and he found himself leaning forward to press his lips to her.

Slowly she came awake, her hands grabbing for his arms. When she was fully awake and aware of what was happening, she let out another moan and her lips moved to kiss him back. His hand moved to the front of her neck, his fingers wrapping around it firmly but gently as they continued to share a long, slow, torturous kiss. Finally he mustered up the resolve to pull back, placing a few chaste kisses to the corner of her mouth before pulling fully away.

"Good morning," his rough voice hummed through the air.

"Mmm… good morning," she said with a shy smile, causing him to smile back. She took that moment to look at him, noticing he was fully showered, shaven and impeccably dressed. "You look very handsome."

"Thank you. You are quite breathtaking yourself," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

She laughed lazily. "I'm sure I look like a mess."

"You don't. I assure you, you look beautiful," he said sincerely.

She just shook her head with a smile, not believing him in the slightest. "Where are you off to so early?" she asked, looking at the clock.

"GEH. I have some things to take care of regarding last night before we both make statements. I'll need you at GEH in a few hours to do the same," he said gently, tracing his thumb back and forth over her cheek. He didn't want to talk about any specifics until he'd gotten the full picture from Taylor and Sawyer. Once he met with them and then his lawyers, he would find out what was necessary to move this forward with as little involvement on her part as possible. She'd been through enough, and he wanted to protect her from what he could. Obviously the police would be chomping at the bit to get to her, but before he would allow that to happen, he needed to go over everything with his staff, find her a lawyer, and make sure she was taken care of.

She sat up, holding the sheer to her naked chest. "I'm sorry. You should have woken me earlier. I would have been ready to leave."

"It's no worry," he said. "Stay here. Sleep some more. Have a shower. Mrs. Jones has water ready for tea and she can make you breakfast. Reynolds is the security for Escala today, but I can have him take you anywhere you need to go."

"No, that's silly. I'm not going back to bed here with you gone. And Reynolds is security, not a chauffeur. I can take a cab. And Mrs. Jones definitely does not have to cook for just me."

"Please Ana, it's no problem. You don't have to eat or sleep here if you don't want to, but please let Reynolds drive you. Don't waste money on a cab. He can take you home if you feel so inclined, and then bring you to Grey House later."

She gave him a slightly anxious look at the mention of the meeting.

"You won't be there alone. I'll have a lawyer there for you, plus I'll be there too," he said, squeezing her hand in reassurance. She returned the gesture with a small smile, before conceding with an, "Okay, if you're sure Reynolds doesn't mind."

"He gets paid enough not to mind, trust me," he said with a smile and a wink.

A knock came at the door, Taylor's gruff voice saying, "Sir? It's been thirty minutes."

"Yes, Taylor. I will be out in just a moment," Christian called to him before turning back to Ana. "I have a couple of meetings that couldn't be put off, and I will be meeting with the detectives myself in the late morning prior to your time with them. Don't stress yourself out about this, Ana. You are the victim. They just need your statement. You will come in and tell the truth. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said with a firm nod.

He nodded back, reinforcing the idea, before standing up and bidding her a reluctant goodbye, knowing he'd be counting the minutes until he got to see her again.

* * *

The Skype meeting with Indonesia prior to Ana's sit down with the police had run longer than Christian had anticipated. The longer it lasted, the more agitated he became. He would not leave her to do this alone. He needed to be in that conference room. He'd promised her she wouldn't have to do it alone. So as soon as things finally wrapped up, he was out of his seat and striding quickly from his office to the conference room he knew she was already waiting in.

Upon entering the room, Christian glanced over at Ana who looked nervous, but like she was trying not to show it. She gave him a small, tight smile when their eyes met, and he returned it with a sympathetic yet encouraging smile of his own. He felt a pull in his stomach when her eyes didn't warm for him, instead staying hard. Was she angry with him? Or was this nerves about the meeting? She'd been so warm and sweet this morning, this had to be about the meeting. She was sitting next to the lawyer he'd chosen for her, William Plant, who was sitting just to the right of the head of the table. Christian had never sat anywhere but at the head, but he didn't even hesitate in the change of routine when he went straight for the seat next to her instead of his usual spot.

He wanted to talk to her, say a few reassuring words to eliminate the look of apprehension on her face, but before he even had a chance to speak Andrea was showing in the two detectives he'd spoken with earlier this morning. So he reached for Ana's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in lieu of a verbal message, before they both stood to greet the officers.

Ana pulled her hand from his immediately in order to shakes the detectives' hands. After exchanging pleasantries, the all took their seats. When she took her seat, his hand was waiting for her, but instead she just clasped hers together tightly in her own lap.

"Miss Steele," began the first officer, who had introduced herself as Sarah Weiss, "Can you please talk me thought the events that happened last night? Start with what you were doing at Seattle Independent Publishing so late."

Ana shifted in her seat, clearing her throat before saying a soft, "Sure." Then she straightened her shoulders, tilted her head up and spoke more confidently. "Jack had asked me to attend a conference in New York. The head of HR, Elizabeth Morgan, she didn't want us to miss any more work than necessary, so she booked the flights for late last night rather than during the day. We worked our normal shift, and then we were going to take a cab to the airport. So we were just working through until it was time to leave."

"Prior to this point, had Mr. Hyde done anything to make you uncomfortable in his presence or was this the first occurrence?"

"Jack has always given off a bad vibe to me. He's never done anything outright inappropriate, but I just always felt kind of uncomfortable under his eyes. Truthfully, I was kind of apprehensive about going away with just him."

"Why agree to the trip then?" The other officer, who's introduced himself as Detective Stevens, asked.

Ana shrugged. "It was a good opportunity that I didn't want to pass up. I'm fresh out of college, so getting the chance to go to such a large conference was a big deal. I was excited enough about it to overlook the fact that it was with Jack. That is, until I started to ask Jack for all the information. The trip was scheduled pretty last minute, but I figured I would have access to the itinerary for the conference and all the hotel information. As his assistant, I _should_ have all that stuff. It's my job. But he kept just telling me not to worry about it, that he had everything we needed and there was nothing to worry about. And I just found it strange. I just wanted to know what to expect, what to prepare for at the conference. But what could I say? He's my boss, and on paper it wasn't a big deal. I couldn't throw a fit just because he wasn't letting me see the itinerary, you know? Plus, I knew HR had set the whole trip up, so I told myself that I was just reading more into it than there really was."

Detective Stevens jotted down some notes, then motioned for Ana to continue.

"Anyway, so I was making copies of some manuscripts when Jack sent me back to his office to grab some more files he wanted to bring, and when I went in there, I saw the plane tickets and a file folder with our other trip information sitting on his desk. I figured this was my one shot to see what to expect."

Ana looked down, probably needed to take a moment to reorganize her thoughts. This was probably tearing her up inside. He hoped she didn't cry. He might not handle that well. He knew she needed to talk to the police, but if they made her cry, he was going to get pissed. When she looked up, Christian was surprised to see her face morphed in anger instead of the sadness he'd expected.

"In the back of the folder was the printed confirmation for our hotel." He was listening intently, seeing as none of this was anything of which he'd been made aware. He'd just kind of assumed Jack had lost his shit and attacked Ana on impulse because he was a piece of shit person. He hadn't stopped to consider that there was a series of events prior to him and Taylor showing up that caused Jack to attack her. "There was only one room booked."

Christian bristled immediately. One room? For them to share? How fucking inappropriate! He would never in a million years book one room for a male and female employee to share. No company would. It was insane.

"I grabbed the information and stormed off to go find him immediately. He in the copy room, and I confronted him as soon as I walked in the door. I asked if he knew there was only one room booked. After all, Elizabeth from HR made the arrangements. So I supposed there was a chance he didn't know. He did claim he didn't know, but he didn't seem at all surprised, and then he immediately got snappy with about it, telling me that it really wasn't a big deal, that we could just share the room and it would be fine. I refused right away. I told him that no, it wasn't fine. I told him I would call and have an additional room booked and that Elizabeth would need to be notified so SIP would cover the costs. I picked up the phone to do just that, but he yanked it from my hand and literally threw it across the room. Then he immediately went into this tirade about how I was ungrateful and how I should just be thankful they were giving me the opportunity to go. Then he started stalking toward me, asking if I really thought someone so new deserved to go to this large scale conference, that he was the only reason I was invited, and that I would be smart to just do what he said if I valued my positon at SIP. He was very aggressive and I was getting scared. He was livid and suddenly I found myself backed up against the counter with nowhere to go. I told him to get out of my personal space, then I threatened him with harassment charges. Then he grabbed me by the hair at the base of my skull and yanked me head back, saying he couldn't wait to 'shut my smart mouth up'.

"I tried to fight back but he was just too strong. I kicked him in the shin, and he slapped me across the face," she said motioning to the still red spot on her cheek, which was starting to faintly bruise on the edge of her cheekbone. "It was so hard I saw stars, and while I was disoriented, he wrestled me over to a small work station table and pinned me down on it. He tore open my shirt before pinning both of my hands above my head with one of his. I tried bucking him off of me, tried to kick him and that was when he used his forearm to put pressure on my throat. I started to panic because it hurt so badly, it felt like he was crushing my throat and I couldn't breathe. I put all my effort into trying to push his arm off my neck but he was just overpowering me too much. I think I was moments away from passing out when Christian broke down the door."

"Did he touch you anywhere that would be considered sexual assault, Miss Steele?"

Ana adjusted her shoulders in a show of discomfort before speaking. "Uh, he groped my breasts over my bra once he opened my shirt. Then he um, touch the outside of my… underwear, right as Christian came in and saved me," she said, looking up at Christian from underneath her eyelashes for a split second and blushing.

Christian looked at her, an eyebrow raised? On the _outside_ of her underwear? Was she lying because she was embarrassed, or was that the truth? The gesture that Hyde had made insinuated he'd managed to touch more than her clothing. Had he lied? To get a rise out of Christian, maybe? He clearly had been trying to antagonize him. Leaning in toward Ana, he dropped his voice to a low murmur and asked, "Are you sure he didn't touch you?"

She looked up at him, questioning, confused, but slowly nodded. "I'm sure."

He felt relief wash over him. Thank god. Everything else was bad enough, but to know Hyde hadn't actually touched her there was huge. Christian found himself reaching for Ana's hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes still showed she was slightly confused, but a genuine smile spread across her lips at his actions.

"And what happened after Mr. Grey and Mr. Jason Taylor entered the room, ma'am?" Detective Weiss asked.

Ana held Christian's stare a moment longer. This was what part of what he'd come to discuss with his security team this morning. Welch was worried the police might try and charge him for assault because he'd used excessive force on Jack. Then there was the whole other side of worrying about Jack suing him. They'd discussed what should be said and what should be glossed over when Taylor and Christian spoke with the police, and Welch had questioned whether Ana should be sitting in on the conversation as well, just in case they tried to fish for information from her. He didn't want her saying anything to further incriminate Christian either. But Christian had told Welch that she really only saw a hit, maybe two. She was removed from the office before most of the beating occurred. She didn't need coaching. Her version of the truth wouldn't hurt him. Plus, she was the clear victim. They wouldn't really use her to try and punish the guy who saved her, would they? He gave her another reassuring nod, and slowly she broke his gaze and looked back at the detectives.

"Christian pushed him off of me and ordered Taylor to get me out of the room. Taylor immediately grabbed for me and escorted me out of the office. Another man, Luke Sawyer, another one of Christian's security men, was waiting for me in the lobby, put his coat over my shoulders and whisked me from the building. I was a little disoriented from the choking, so it's kind of a rushed blur, but I think I was out of the building within a minute of Christian showing up."

"So you don't recall anything that transpired between Mr. Grey, Mr. Hyde and Mr. Taylor?" Shit, they _were_ fishing, just like Welch suspected.

"Not really, no."

"Did you see Mr. Grey hit Mr. Hyde?"

"Not that I recall. I know Christian knocked Jack off of me but that's really it. After that I really only got a look at Taylor's chest while he pushed me out the door," she said. Christian held his breath for a moment. Surely she remembered the first hit? It had been extremely forceful. Christian had done more than just 'knock Hyde off' of her. Was she omitting that detail on purpose? Maybe she really was so out of it she forgot?

"And what happened after you left the building Miss Steele?" Detective Weiss asked.

"Sawyer took me to Christian's home. Christian met me there not long after."

"How long would you say?"

"I don't know, like I said, I was kind of disoriented, kind of in shock. I wasn't really aware of the time."

"If you had to guess," Detective Stevens pushed.

"Miss Steele already said she isn't sure, detective," Mr. Plant interjected. "There is no point in trying to force her to choose a time. She was in shock from just being attacked. We all know how shock can make elapsed time seem off. I suggest you speak to Mr. Sawyer, Mr. Taylor or Mr. Grey about the times."

"We have," Detective Stevens said. "We are just confirming all sides of the story."

"Yes, well my client has been nothing but cooperative and has given you her side of the events to the best of her knowledge."

Detective Stevens rolled his eyes, but Detective Weiss gave Ana a reassuring smile. "That's fine. And we appreciate your cooperation, Miss Steele. We are just doing our jobs, you understand."

Ana nodded.

"And after Mr. Grey did return home, did he discuss any details with you about what transpired between him and Mr. Hyde?"

Mr. Plant opened his mouth to speak again, but Ana shook her head before he could. "Not really, no." That wasn't the full truth. They hadn't discussed it much, but he had told her he beat the shit out of Hyde.

"What did you two discuss?" Detective Stevens asked.

Christian watched as Ana bloomed right red, hesitating before she muttered, "Not much."

"But he did return home?"

"Yes, of course," Ana said. "I wasn't waiting long. I even waited in the garage for him. We went upstairs together."

"So you waited for him and spoke to him, but you didn't discuss the attack?" he pressed.

"No," she said quietly, her cheeks still burning hot.

"What did you do?"

Christian bit back a grin, which ended up settling as a smirk as Ana's thighs pressed together and held her breath in her lungs. Tension filled the room as Ana stayed silent. Suddenly looks of realization crossed the faces of the other three people in the room, and Mr. Plant said, "I don't think this information is vital for your investigation, detectives. What Mr. Grey and Miss Steele did in his home is private information of which you need not be privy."

* * *

After a few more clarification questions and some quick photos of the bruises on Ana's neck and face, the detectives finally announced their intent to leave, promising to be in touch with Mr. Plant regarding any new information. Taylor led the way, escorting them from the building, and Ana turned in her chair to face Christian the moment the conference door closed behind the detectives and it was just the two of the left in the room.

"What was that, Christian? It felt like they were trying to get me to say something bad about you or something. Are you in trouble for assaulting Jack? Did you really hurt him that badly?"

Christian shook his head lightly. Obviously he'd underestimated Ana. She _had_ caught on right away to the detective's suspicions and had answered their questions accordingly. Still, he didn't want any of that in her head. This was about her. Hell, he would take the fall for hurting Jack if it meant ensuring she got justice. But that was unlikely. He didn't have any history of violence in his past (being that Carrick had made sure all of his teenage records were expunged once he turned eighteen- his judge friend saw that he'd been out of trouble since fifteen and had erased any evidence from the system that he'd ever been in any trouble). This was a first offence, done in defense of a friend, a woman, being attacked and almost raped. The outcome was favorable for him walking away from this. Still, he needed to play it off with the police until it all blew over.

"Don't worry about me Ana, I'll be fine. I have the best lawyers on the West Coast, plenty of money, and political sway."

"I don't want your name attached to anything negative because of me," she said. "I don't want you putting your name or your business at risk for me."

"My lawyer says the worst I'm looking at is a slap on the wrist, most likely a fine. I have a valid reason for assaulting him. Hyde might want to sue me, and if he does, so be it. I don't regret what I did," he said, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I would do it again in a heartbeat for you."

He'd unconsciously moved closer to her, a breath of space now between them as she looked up at him with an indecipherable look in her eyes. His hands reached to circle her waist, his lips moving down to hers when at the last second her head turned and his lips met the soft skin of her cheek. Christian stood still, dumbfounded for a moment. She'd refused him. Why? A half second later the conference room door opened. It all happened so fast, he thought for a second that maybe she'd denied him because someone was coming in the room. But he quickly dismissed the idea. He was sure she'd done it before, and the look of guilt on her face only confirmed it.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor said as he stepped into the room, immediately bowing his head as the pair separated, Christian scowled at him as Ana stepped back from him, putting an appropriate amount of space between their bodies as she ran her hand down her body, absently smoothing out her clothes. What was happening? After everything that happened last night, was she regretting it? Did she not want to be with him? He felt his stomach turn at the idea of his feelings being unrequited.

"What, Taylor?" Christian asked through clenched teeth. Since when did Taylor open doors without knocking? True they were in a conference room after meeting with the police, so Taylor really had no reason to suspect there was anything going on in here. But still.

"I had Sawyer arrange for lunch, sir. It's well after lunch hour so I assumed you two might be hungry," Taylor said, holding up his arm to show he was holding a paper bag emblazoned with the logo from the sandwich shop down the street. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Thank you, Taylor. Lunch sounds great," Ana said, her eyes locked on Taylor, who finally looked up from the ground. She gave him a brief smile, closing the gap between them and taking the bag from his hand. He watched her thank Taylor again, who received a dismissive head nod from Christian before he exited the room. As the door clicked quietly closed, Ana brought the bag to the table, making herself busy as she removed everything item by item- sandwiches, little side portions of some kind of pasta salad, water bottles, napkins and cheap plastic forks. He watched her break the seal on her bottle of water, opening the cap and taking a small sip.

Inside he was going crazy. He hadn't imagined her coolness toward him this afternoon, and it hadn't been due to the meeting with the police. It was about them, about him. Was she unhappy with what happened between them? Did she regret it? Had she had a change of heart since last night, since this morning?

"Are we okay Ana?" he asked, unable to stand the doubt anymore.

He watched her slowly swallow her mouthful of water, replacing the cap with a little sigh. Finally her eyes met his. "I'm sorry, Christian. Look, can we just… I just want us to talk a little before we do anymore of…that," she said motioning toward where they'd stood when he'd tried to kiss her.

He nodded, taking the seat next to her where she'd set up his food.

"Do you regret what happened last night?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Her face fell a little, her head shaking back and forth as she took a second to gather her thoughts before replying. "No. I don't regret last night. Last night was wonderful for me. It was spontaneous and intense and a wonderful distraction from everything that had just happened that I didn't want to think about. It felt right for us, in that moment and time. So no, I don't regret it at all."

Christian opened his mouth to respond, but Ana held up a hand, cutting him off. "Let me finish, please," she said. He nodded, albeit hesitantly, but she continued. "That being said, I have been privy to some of the inner workings of your mind for a little while now, Christian. So I know how you feel about feelings and relationships and all of that. You've made that all very clear to me from day one. So before you even try and give me some speech keeping me in my place regarding that part of your life, just know that it's not necessary. I already know you're not looking for more with me. And that's completely fine. I didn't expect us to go falling in love after last night. Last night was sex, pure and simple. _Good_ sex- for me anyway. I'm sure it was vastly inferior to you and what you're used to, but regardless. And even though I am completely okay with the fact that all it was, was sex, I need you to know it can't happen again. Last night was great, but I'm not going to fall into the habit of us sleeping together. Your friendship means too much to me to lose, and that's what will happen. If we create some friends-with-benefits situation, I just know that eventually it will lead us down a path where the 'friends' part will disappear. So as great as yesterday was, that's where it needs to stop. That's why I stopped your kiss just now- because I don't want us to continue down that road of random hookups and meaningless sex."

Meaningless sex. _Meaningless_ sex? Christian sat there completely stunned. How, _how_ could she say that sex was meaningless? That sex was the most meaningful thing he'd ever experienced in his life, and she was chalking the whole thing up to impulse? Didn't she feel what he felt yesterday? Didn't she feel the emotional connection, the intensity, the pure, unbridled passion that coursed between them when they were together? She was dismissing this all so easily, like they could just go back to how it was before. But he could never go back. The friendship would never be enough with her. He wanted her, _all_ of her. He'd made major breakthroughs in what he'd always considered his limits to his emotional availability. He'd come leaps and bounds since the last time they'd truly had a discussion about what it was he wanted out of the female sex in his life.

But that was the rub, he guessed. He'd spent weeks, months now slowly learning to feel for her, to understand what it was she did to him, but he'd never told her. He'd never been open and honest with her about his growing ability to incorporate feelings and emotions into his life. He'd done it, _for her_, but never once indicated to her that he might be shifting his views on relationships and love and sex.

But he'd had vanilla sex with her. That in itself should have shown her that things were different. He'd done things he told her he never did. Made allowances for her that he'd never made. And he'd enjoyed them. It was obvious last night that he enjoyed them, right? Sure, he'd been mainly quiet. And intense, he was sure. There were so many emotions floating around in him last night, he had probably come off as pretty intense to her. But surely she felt the changes in him, noticed the care he had for her—right?

"It's tempting to fall into a sexual relationship with you, trust me. But in the long run, I know it won't be a good idea. I know you're not willing to give me what I ultimately want. And that's okay. I don't expect you too," she added quietly.

"And what is it you ultimately want, Ana?" he asked, his voice low and tinged with the pain he was feeling.

She shrugged. "Love," she said simply. "I want love, a future, and I know you're not looking for those things. I'm just not the type to have sex with no emotional basis. I need to know there are some kind of feelings there- more than just attraction. That's not enough for what I need in the long run."

"And," he paused, taking a deep breath as the constricting in his chest tightened further. "If I said I did have feelings for you, what then?"

Ana's eyes went wide in surprise. She gaped at his for a moment before speaking. "Then that's a whole other story."

He turned his chair a little to allow himself room to lean in closer to her. "I've been warring with myself over you for a while now Ana. It's my fault I haven't shared any of this with you, I understand that, but the fact is it's true. I struggled for a long time. Half the time I approached it logically, telling myself I could never be what you need, that I'm a fuck up, that BDSM is the only life for me, that you're better than what I could give you. But the other half of me wanted to throw myself at you and lose myself in you- just wanted to take it all in, see what comes, have fun and enjoy you just the way I have been, with no expectations and no pressure. I've tried to deny how fiercely drawn to you I am, but I'm sick of fighting it. And last night was the push I needed to finally surrender to that fight."

"I had no idea you ever felt anything remotely like that toward me."

"I'd been fighting it because I've been scared of it. And hiding from it is safer than putting yourself out there completely. Especially when for so long I wasn't sure what I wanted, let alone what you wanted. But last night changed everything for me. Last night was the final push I needed to realize exactly what you mean to me. And I still don't know about… marriage and stuff. I haven't thought that far—," he started speaking more rushed, more ramblingly. But she cut him off, placing her hand over his calmingly.

"Christian, I don't need you to be ready to walk down the aisle tomorrow. Hell, I wouldn't even need you to make any kind of solid commitment. Lord knows, we could find out we're completely incompatible as anything more than friends. But I need to know we were both willing to try. That you want it too. That you're not going to just be nothing. It doesn't **have** to be _something_, but it can't be _nothing_. I can handle the idea that you find out you can't change, that your lifestyle is truly the lifestyle that makes you happy. I could never fault you for that. But I need to think there may be a sliver, even the tiniest little sliver of a chance that you might want something different."

His lips were on hers in an instant and they were dueling for dominance in each other's mouths. He'd never kissed like this before. He was always the one dominating and women always just gave themselves, their mouths, their bodies up to him. But this back and forth, this... equality, it was **hot**.

As her fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. Different. It was all so _different_ with her. The kisses, the touching, the sex- god the _sex_. It was all new and exciting and his instinct was to analyze it but he fought against the notion. He had always been so logical, always planning out every little detail of every single moment of his life. But this, what was happening with Ana, this was him living in the moment for the first time, and he couldn't get enough of it. It was thrilling. Exhilarating.

"There's more than a sliver of a chance Ana," he mumbled against her lips, unable to actually pull away. He wanted to completely connect himself to her. No amount of kisses could slake his thirst for her. Would he ever get his fill of her? "I want something real with you, and I want it badly."


	19. Chapter 19

Five o'clock.

It had never meant anything to him before. He'd ever once, not in his entire life, looked at the clock while anxiously awaiting it to strike five o'clock. It was a meaningless time in his world.

But today he was leaving at five o'clock. Today, as soon as that little hand swooped directly down to the five while the big hand simultaneously struck the twelve, he was going to be clamoring to his office door, jacket draped over his forearm, briefcase in hand like he was the main character of some TV series stuck in a dead end job working out of a tiny cubicle.

Today was the first time he ever had a reason to rush from work. A real reason. He'd always made a point to leave work in a timely fashion on Fridays when he had a sub waiting. But he'd never watched a clock for it, never anticipated a set time knowing that come hell or high water, the second that time struck he'd be out the door. No, this was the first time for any of that.

And it was for her. For Ana. Because he'd had to get back to work after their talk in the conference room this afternoon. He'd pushed off enough stuff due to the meetings with the detectives. But she'd agreed to meet him at Escala this evening for dinner. And he knew the very least he had to do was stay and work until five o'clock. That was when all the major departments wrapped up their day, and so it was the most likely that nothing urgent would pop up requiring his attention after that time. And so…

Five o'clock.

It was just four fifteen now. Scratch that- four sixteen. Forty-four minutes and counting. His eyes darted from the clock back to his desk. Hastily he read through some papers that needed his signature before days' end.

And so he trudged on, working, clock-watching, clock-watching, working. His small must-do pile dwindled despite his distraction. Andrea had come in at four forty-two to take everything that was urgent and get it sent off to the correct departments before days' end. And as the clock moved to four fifty-eight, he stood, grabbing a few things from his desk and loading his briefcase.

Four fifty-nine.

His suit jacket, which had been draped over the back of his chair, was lifted from said spot and placed on his forearm, his fingers gripping the handle of his briefcase as he rounded his desk, slowly approaching his office door. His eyes were trained on his clock. This was the longest fucking minute of his life. Why was this minute taking so long? Was the clock broken? That would be so fitting, that today, of all days, the clock would break the exact minute before the time he was awaiting. It lacked a second hand, so Christian had no proof that it was actually working. His eyes burned from the intensity he was using to urge the last minute to tick by. It _had_ to be broken. He was one-hundred percent sure now. Finally he blinked, his eyes feeling tight and dry. Would it change in that moment? No. No it hadn't. Okay, fuck this. If it was broken he wasn't going to just stand here and wait-

Oh. There it went. Not broken after all.

Five o'clock.

He felt his lips tick up in a smile, and in a second he was out the door. Andrea was still at her desk, gathering her belongings to go home herself, a look of surprise on her face as she watched Christian exit his office in a flurry.

"Have a good evening Andrea," he said quickly, not slowing on his way to the elevator.

"Thanks. You too, Mr. Grey," she said slowly, surprise evident in her voice. Had he ever wished her a good evening before? Probably not. The thought was in and out of his mind in a second. He didn't have time to dwell on it. Because his mind was consumed with thoughts of Ana.

He let out a full blown grin this time as he stepped into the elevator, the doors promptly sliding closed behind the ever ready Taylor, who had stepped in behind him.

To Escala.

To Ana.

* * *

The elevator slid open, revealing the foyer of his penthouse. Home. He'd never been so glad to see it. Immediately the aromas of a home cooked meal that were permeating the air caressed his senses. The light din of pots and pans and silverware could be heard, along with the soft sound of a sonata he didn't care to name at the moment, despite how beautiful the music was. Because he heard the distinct giggle that sent his heart soaring and erased every other thought from him mind.

Dropping his briefcase and jacket on the ground by the entryway, he crossed the room purposefully, rounding the corner until the woman who'd been consuming his every thought came into view. He paused then, watching her listen intently to some story Gail was sharing, her fingers deftly slicing a bell pepper as she did.

His breath caught, the pure overwhelming domesticity of it all flaming a ball in his gut that radiated from the inside out until it reached his fingertips and toes, consuming him. He could feel Taylor, his metaphorical right hand, standing, ironically, just to his right, also come to a stop to watch the two women fluidly move around each other as they shared the responsibility of prepping the meal.

"Those are two pretty amazing women," Christian said softly, choosing to share a rare moment of genuineness with someone of his staff.

He watched an equally rare smile form on Taylor face. "I'd have to agree with you there, sir. I'm quite fond of both of them."

Christian grinned, not wanting to wait a moment more to greet the woman he'd been thinking about all day long. He was wrapping his arms around her in mere seconds, her surprised squeal letting him know she'd been unaware of his arrival until he was wrapped around her.

"Christian!" She laughed. "You're lucky I didn't shank you," she scolded, playfully brandishing the chef's knife that was still in her hand.

He smiled, but didn't respond, instead sealing her lips with his own in a kiss that seemed innocent however felt anything but. It was open-lipped and slightly moist, but long enough and with firm enough pressure to let her know that she'd been consuming his thoughts and he'd missed her. Purely and simply, the kiss said 'I missed you.'

And as he pulled back, he took just a second to suck her bottom lip, that little added move indicative of sensual promises to be fulfilled later. She would be _feeling _how much he'd missed her later.

He pulled away, her eyes opening slowly and filled with desire. Yes, he'd definitely conveyed his message with that kiss. He watched her cheeks turn pink as her eyes darted over to where Gail and Taylor stood, talking in hushed tones and smiling at each other, but not touching, always respectful of their professional boundaries while on the clock.

"Join me in my bedroom?" Christian asked, his voice low and husky, pulling her attention from his staff. He needed to be alone with her for a minute. Just the two of them.

"I'm helping Gail cook," she said with a small frown, motioning toward the countertops filled with food and various cooking implements. "I can't just leave now."

"Sure you can," he said. It was Gail's job. Ana most certainly _could_ leave her to do her job. Ana gave him a little pout. "Gail can handle it from here, right Gail?"

"Of course," Gail smiled, taking the towel she was using to wipe her hands off and flicking it at them like a stereotypical homemaker. "You kids go."

"Are you sure?" Ana asked, her face showing she was torn between leaving and staying.

"_Yes_," Gail insisted with a laugh. "It will be ready in about a half hour, Mr. Grey. Will you be done by—ready by then?" she asked, blushing furiously and looking horrified at the slip of her tongue.

But Christian just chuckled, knowing he didn't want to mortify her worse than she already was. "Just put it on warm if we aren't out and we'll serve ourselves. Thank you Gail," Christian said.

Taking Ana's hand in his, he tugged her behind him, his long legs striding quickly toward his bedroom causing her shorter legs to rapid scurry in order to keep up.

"Christian, slow down," she hissed. And in a second he turned around, hoisting her up and tossing her over his shoulder, landing a light slap to her behind that caused a squeal to escape her lips. "Christian! Oh my God, put me down!"

He said nothing as he continued his journey to his bedroom.

"Christian, I'm serious," she huffed, returned the gesture with a smack on his own butt. But that just served as fuel for him to quicken his pace.

As soon as he crossed the threshold into his room, he kicked the door shut and brought her to his bed, tossing her down onto it. And before she had a chance to huff indignantly at him, as he knew she would, his body covered hers, his lips finding hers in an immediately deep kiss. His hands were everywhere, frantic on her body. He'd been awaiting this exact moment since they'd parted ways earlier today. He needed to feel her against him.

She didn't hesitate to receive or return his kiss or his body. She battled his lips and tongue with her own immediately, her body loosening and opening to him, allowing him to take his place atop her.

It was so easy with her. They were falling into this roll, no uncertainty, no hesitation. She wasn't telling him to take things slow because this was a new facet to their relationship. She was here, in this, with him. They crossed the friendship line and hadn't looked back. And it was exhilarating. A timeline of his life would show a meticulous map of every detail he'd ever planned out in his past. But looking forward, what would it show? He wasn't sure. Prior to yesterday, it would have just been more of the same. But now, today, it was wiped clean and he was staring down a hell of a lot of unknown. And for once he wanted to live in that moment, rather than the premeditated ones that had made up his existence before.

"Ana," he moaned against her neck as his lips caressed the tender skin there. It wasn't a question, more a plea. A plea for this feeling to last, a feeling only she gave him.

He didn't want to rush through any moments with her. They were too precious. So he forced himself to slow down, to reel it in a little until he could gain control of himself again. He wanted her, needed her, but he didn't want to take her in the furious storm he felt in his gut. He wanted to prolong it.

As he slowed, lessening the frenzy and increasing the depth of passion for the moment, he felt Ana keening under him in a more frantic fashion. She was urging him to continue on the path he'd started, one of hard kisses and quick hands. Her fingers moved between their bodies, urging his belt and pants button open and his zipper down. She shoved the elastic band of his pajama pants down her waist, attempting to bare the two necessary points of contact between them.

With his pants now dangling precariously off his hips, he pulled away, his fingers latching onto the waistband of her panties, catching them and tugging them down, collecting her pants along the way and pulling the pair from her slender legs.

He didn't want to rush, was determined not to rush, but she was already so keyed up he knew he needed to give her something in order to take the something he needed.

So without further preamble, he sunk to his knees at the edge of the bed and yanked her by her hips until she was on the edge before him.

His hands wrapped around high on her thighs, allowing him to control not only her legs, but the movement of her hips. And before she had time to blink, his mouth on her. He forewent his usual MO of teasing and went straight for the sweet spot, his tongue flicking her clit rapidly as soon as it touched down between her thighs. As expected, her hips tried to buck up, but his firm lock on her legs kept her in place.

His fingers slid between her folds, the buttery silkiness enveloping them as they sought to put pressure to the spot just behind where his tongue was currently working.

"Christian," she groaned, her body fighting to bow off the bed but again hindered by his strong hold. He stayed quiet, not responding to her, just listening to every little noise she made. He heard her little whines, her groans, her moans all playing a beautiful orchestra over the soft wet slicking noises of his working tongue and fingers.

As her voice turned higher pitched and her pants turned to pleas, he slowed his pace, drawing out the moment of detonation to force her to come long and hard. And as her body convulsed and her mind was lost in the recesses of her haze, he slid up her body, replacing his fingers with his cock, and slid into the perfect wet heat of her core.

Her incoherent babble as his intrusion into her body drove him forward, his desire to keep her in a lustful state driving him to pound into her relentlessly. She has no time to recover, no time to think, only time to feel.

His fingers sunk into her hair, holding her head so he could capture her lips with his own. With reverence he devoured her, plundering everything he could. He wanted to consume her, possess every inch of her until she was left wrung out and completely shattered. Relentless. Overwhelmed. That was what he did to her, wanted to make her feel. She would never think of sex the same after him. She would question every act she'd ever done with another man, wondering how she'd gone her whole life without being owned like this.

He poured himself into her, mind, body and soul. He gave her everything. All of his emotions, all of his pain, his anguish, his newfound ability to feel happiness and love. He gave her all of it, forced it upon her with a vengeance to bind them together.

And when he was finally done, when he'd forced two more orgasms from her and fatigued her to a point of immobilization, he finally let himself go. With a desperate last thrust, he felt the ropes of semen rocket out of him, blasting her inner walls with his possession. He groaned, digging his toes into the mattress, sheathing himself so completely he felt the head of his cock poking her cervix.

The euphoria washed over him like a warm blanket, the sheer joy he felt at the moment keeping his own exhaustion at bay. Seconds, minutes ticked by as he lay atop her, his body seamlessly fitted against her own. Finally he garnered enough strength to prop himself up, pulling his chest up and feeling the coolness of the air hitting his sweaty skin as it separated from hers.

Her eyes were closed, her swollen lips parted slightly to facilitate her still slightly heavier than normal breathing. Her cheeks- her whole body, really, were still tinted pink, flush from physical exertion. Her hair, which had been pulled into a high pony tail, now hung by the hairband loose and tangled by her shoulder.

He placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, his fingertips tracing a line from her ear lobe to her chin. "Ana?" he asked softly. But nothing. Not even a flinch at hearing her name. He offered another kiss, this time to her lips, before pulling back fully from her body. Standing at the side of the bed, he redressed with his eyes trained on her the whole time. She didn't move, not an inch, so he decided to simply let her be for now.

Seeing as they'd never made it under the covers and he didn't want to move her, he took the blanket that was folded on the chaise near the window and used it to cover her up to her shoulders. With a final look, he left her there.

Mrs. Jones would long since have retired to her own room, leaving the food on warm in the oven for him as requested. But not knowing how long Ana would be out, he didn't want to leave it in the oven much longer, so he decided to pull it out. They could reheat it later when she finally did wake and would surely be ready to eat.

* * *

He was sitting in front of his piano, imaging his fingers floating effortlessly over the keys. In his head, he could hear perfectly every note that would play from the instrument he'd spend so many nights in front of. It was getting late and Ana was still completely dead to the world. He'd gone in to check on her twice, and both times she was in the name exactly spot in which he'd left her, the light rise and fall of the blanket the only sign that she was still alive.

He'd contemplated working, but for once, he hadn't the desire. He always used work as a way to avoid the empty feeling of his apartment, of his life. But what he was feeling, what'd he'd been feeling since the first moment his lips had touched Ana's last night, was the farthest thing from emptiness. He felt full, brimming to the edges full. And he didn't want to distract himself from what it felt like to be full for the first time in his life. He wanted to indulge in it, sit in a silent room and for once, focus on something inside of him that felt positive.

His mind drifted to when Mia was little and used to make him watch Disney Princess movies with him. One of them, Beauty and the Beast, had stuck in his head throughout the years. He'd always felt he was that monster, locked away in his castle from the rest of the world. Arrogant. Selfish. The way he ordered Belle around, told her what to do, when and how. It was him over and over.

A lazy smile formed on his lips as he thought about Belle. If ever there was a Belle, it was Ana. A sweet, book-loving, beautiful brunette with heart of gold and a mind of her own. Selfless. Strong. Compassionate.

Most of the other fairy tales Mia made him watch revolved around Prince Charming coming and saving the female character from a life of sadness or desolation. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid, just to name a few. But in Beauty and the Beast, it was the woman coming and saving the man from himself. Healing him with patience and compassion and allowing him to know love. Belle had seen the good in the beast even when he hadn't seen it in himself, even when all he'd showed her was the wicked. Or perhaps she'd created the good in him. She'd made him good by healing him with her love. Even in his adolescence, he'd turned away from the TV at the end, somehow knowing even as a child that this was a fairy tale, and some people could never be 'saved'. He'd been saved by Grace and Carrick from the life with his birth mother. That was his fairy tale come true. Asking for anything more- for touch, for understanding, for love- that was asking for too much. There was a time he'd thought Elena was a second savior to him, but he'd been wrong. Very wrong. Elena was just another villain in his life story.

Christian shook his head to rid himself of his darker thoughts. Being with Ana had transformed him. He, for the first time, felt like the beast at the _end_ of the movie. Ana had saved him just in time, just before the last petal fell. She made the light shoot through his body and made him real again, brought him back to life. She lit up every part of him and changed him. He felt changed. He was a different man today than he'd been yesterday. And yesterday was a different man than he'd been months ago. She'd forced him to slowly come to terms with himself, to see himself differently. She'd helped him come to terms with his life for himself first. Caring for her wouldn't be possible unless he'd first learned to care about himself.

And her role in his life was something he and Flynn had discussed at length because it was a crucial topic. He loved and even needed to have her as a support in his life while he fought his demons, whether in this role now for their friendship from before, but he didn't ever want her to be his crutch. He needed to make sure he stood on his own two feet, just knowing Ana would be there to prop him up a little bit when he swayed. That was what she'd always provided for him, and what he truly needed from her. She couldn't be expected to hold all the weight of his past issues for him. He needed to lighten the load himself, then use her as backup support, not the main load bearing brace of his life. If he put all of his shit on her to hold, she could surely crumble under the weight. If he started weighting her down with his insecurity and his abandonment issues and his self-loathing, he would break her. And he'd made significant strides with those issues over the months. They no longer ruled him the way they once had. He'd spent his life miserable because of them, so he was in no way willing to let them touch Ana in the same negative way.

A slight movement from the edge of his peripheral vision drew his attention to the hallway. There she stood, her skin glowing in the moonlight, wrapped up in the blanket he'd laid over her, holding it loosely around her chest. Her hair was pulled from her hairband, tumbling down her left shoulder, her eyes hooded slightly with sleep.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed out immediately, causing a slow smile to form on her lips.

"Sweet talker," she said quietly, her voice still heavy from sleep.

He stood gracefully from his piano bench, closing the distance between them as it began to feel cavernous albeit it being just steps. He pressed his lips to her forehead, running his fingers down her bare arms and stopping at her elbows, using them to pull her flush against his body.

"What did you do to me? One moment I was cooking with Gail, the next I was quite literally delirious with pleasure, and the next I'm comatose for hours. I feel like I lost my mind."

"I made love to you," he said, like it was all the explanation in the world. He'd fucked. He'd fucked dozens of women, but never made to love to anyone but Ana.

"I've made love before, and it was nothing like that," she said with a shy smile. But her words wiped the smile from his face.

"I thought you said you'd never been in love," he said, his voice tight as he tried to quell the still new feeling of jealousy slowly invading his mind. It was unreasonable for him to expect her to have never had emotional sex before, but reason didn't much matter to him in that exact moment.

"I haven't," she said with an unsure shrug. "But I've had sex that meant more than just sex."

She had. Of course she had. And that was good, he told himself, taking a deep breath and trying to gain logical control over his emotions again. He'd wanted her to be normal, to have a normal, healthy lifestyle after what happened between them when she was a teenager. He'd desperately hoped he hadn't tainted her. And from all accounts of everything she'd told him so far during their friendship, he hadn't. She had persevered in the face of adversity created by the circumstances of her adolescence. That's what he wanted. Hell, it's what he liked about her, what drew him to her- her strength. Being normal meant having normal life experiences. And emotional sex was normal.

Another deep breath and he forced the remaining feelings of insecurity down. His jealously was about him, not her, and he needed to make sure she didn't feel that from him. Controlling those kinds of emotions was one of the changes he'd been focusing on lately, and it was actually working. Recently, and for the first time in his life, he finally felt like he was _healing_. Little by little over the last months, but it _was_ happening. His sessions with Flynn had been more intense than ever before, ever since he'd met Ana. Over the years, Flynn had helped him see truths about himself. He'd helped him be able to understand some of the reasoning behind the things he did, to logically understand the 'why'. He helped him discover **facts** about himself. But he hadn't been able to _change_ him. Christian knew what his issues were, he knew why he had them, but they remained issues nonetheless. But since meeting Ana he found he was actually _changing_. He was making progress. It was damn scary, but he was open to it. For the first time in his adult life, he was open to change.

"Christian," she said softly, her fingertips coming up to softly brush his temple, "How is all this working for you so far? I mean, us…_ together_. I know it's only been a day, but…" she trailed off, her cheeks burning pink with embarrassment.

"Ana, I can't even begin to describe how pleasing these past twenty four hours have been," he said, planting a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Are you sure? I want honesty, Christian. This won't work between us otherwise. I need to know if what we have isn't enough for you. Emotionally and physically. Both of those things are important."

"Please don't doubt me. I don't think I've ever been so… content. And I know that doesn't sound like much- being _content_, but for me…"

"No, I get it," she said with a smile.

The look in her eyes told him that that was the truth. She did get it. Because she got _him_. His life had never led him to contentment before. He'd always been complacent with his situations for what they were. He'd had to be, because he never thought he could have anything more. But Ana allowed him that. For the first time he was able to sit down, take a deep breath, and with a clear head say he was happy.

"Now come to the kitchen so I can feed you."

* * *

"You're really going home?" Christian asked, the frustration obvious in his tone and demeanor as his hands yanked at his slightly outgrown hair. It had been almost ten by the time they'd reheated and eaten their food last night. He'd indulged in one last round of _love-making_ with Ana before finally drifting off to sleep with her in his arms sometime after midnight. He'd woken up more refreshed than he'd been in a long time, this newfound feeling of happiness just continuing on and on the longer he spent with her. He'd gotten up and showered in preparation or his day at work, and had come back into his room to find her awake and dressed, saying she would leave when he did. He hadn't expected her to be awake and certainly hadn't expected her to want to go home.

"Yes," Ana sighed in exasperation. "Why is the concept of me needing to go home so foreign to you?"

"Because I want you at Escala when I get home. I want to see you tonight."

"Christian, I can't just sit around your home all day waiting for you. I have obligations. I have a life too."

"What do you need done? I can have it taken care of," he tried to reason. He could send Sawyer out to run her errands or whatever while she stayed safely ensconced in his apartment.

"No, Christian. I don't want you to do anything for me. I am fully capable of handling my day to day by myself. Plus, I have work in the morning."

Silence. Silence silence silence. Work. Did she actually just say _work_ to him? "You're going back to work?"

"Uh, yeah?" she asked sarcastically, the attitude immediately grating on him. Like _he_ was the crazy one here, while she was sitting there seriously talking about going back to work.

"Why?"

"I have to talk to HR, Christian. I have to find out if I even have a job to go back to with Jack being gone."

"You'll have a job, Ana. They can't fire you. It would be a lawsuit waiting to happen if they fired someone who got attacked by their boss in their building."

"Not really. Not if there's nowhere to place me now. With Jack being terminated, what would I do? I was his assistant. If he's not there for me to assist, I have no job."

"They can give you Jack's job," he said simply.

But Ana scoffed. "Yeah right. I _just_ graduated Christian. Learning to be an editor takes time. It takes experience. I'm not ready for that yet. I need real world experience by, you know, _assisting_ someone who is already an editor."

"You don't have to work. I could easily support you," he offered.

"Um, no," she said with a laugh and a shake of her head, like the idea was the most preposterous thing she'd ever heard.

Think, Christian, think, he said to himself. He started feeling the insecurity begin to bubble up again, just like last night. It was obviously still an ongoing battle for him to learn to quell it. Even more so now that they were together verses when they'd just been friends. He'd finally found everything he'd never known he needed. He didn't want to lose her to the world. To jobs and friends and life, he wanted to just indulge in their new found relationship and spend every available moment making love and talking and laughing and _living_ with her. Both metaphorically and physically. What if she walked out those doors and the spell was gone?

Oh God.

What if this was some attachment on her part because of the attack? Had he taken advantage of her by sleeping with her that same night? He hadn't even thought of the timing as an issue, things had just sort of… _happened_ that night and it'd felt natural at the time, but what if psychologically he had taken advantage of her? And once she got out, back to her home with the rest of her life, she realized that this thing between them was just a crutch to boost her back up from what happened?

"Move in with me," he said, the lightbulb of realization shining brightly with his newly minted solution to his manifested problem.

Ana choked on the sip of tea she'd been taking, sputtering and coughing for a few seconds, her eyes pinning him with incredulity as she wiped at her mouth with her napkin.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. He didn't repeat it. She'd heard him. He just gave her a pointed look. "No, Christian. No it's way too soon for that."

"I don't want to lose you," he said. He was surprised at his own voice when he heard himself speak. He sounded so vulnerable. It was so unlike him, he hardly recognized it as himself.

"You're not. Christian," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Look, this is new. Really new. And I'm glad we're doing it, but we have to do it right. I'm not going to move in with you just to ease your fears of abandonment. Because that's what this is. I know that sounds harsh and I don't mean it that way, but if you want this to work, really work, we have to do it right. Take the big things slow. Enjoy each day as it comes. Just live in the moment with me. Half the fun of a relationship is the exhilaration of the newness, the thrill of getting to know each other. I want to just live it, not force it. Stop worry about the future and just be here in the present with me. And if we're meant to be, it'll happen. We have so much to look forward to, Christian. Don't rush it because of fear."

Slowly, he took a deep, fortifying breath. Yes. Yes, that was all exactly what he needed to hear. It was what he wanted too, honestly. This is what Ana did for him. She grounded him. He was able to pull him from the brink of his frantic emotions and level him out again at the times when he couldn't do it for himself yet. Just like last night, her presence and her sensibility and her candid way for laying it all out there for him exactly as it was allowed him to take a step back and realize his irrationality, realizing the ruling nature of his insecurity and refocus it. This was more than a couple of fucks, what they had. This was something real, something tangible, and Ana had been very open and clear about that. She wasn't going to run from him once she went back to her place. She wasn't going to just decide to leave. They were both in this together.

He stood up, circling his arms around her where she sat perched on the stool at his kitchen island. Immediately she wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his arm rather than his chest. He kissed the crown on her head before pulling back so she would look up at him, as she did.

He gave her a small smile, cupping her face and brushing his thumbs across her cheeks.

"Thank you for being patient with me," he said.

She just smiled a genuine small before wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his lips down to hers.


	20. Chapter 20

"Christian," she whined against his lips, reaching between them to fondle him over his suit pants. She'd showed up at his office with a homemade lunch since he had been in there on a Saturday for two meetings- one in person with a potential client and one via conference call which he'd just decided to do at Grey House since he was already in the building. The building was practically deserted, but she'd apparently set it up between Sawyer and Taylor that she was going to surprise him. So when Taylor had knocked on his office door, informing him of a visitor, he'd looked at him like he was insane. Until Ana stepped through the door with, God help him, a little sundress on and a picnic basket on her forearm— an honest to God picnic basket! Wicker weaved with the red and white plaid lining.

Eating _had_ occurred sometime between then and now, where he had her pressed into the white couch below him, his fingers teasing up her bare thighs, her light cardigan yanked down to the crooks of her elbows to give his lips access to her beautiful neck and shoulders. Carefully he removed her slender fingers from where they were tracing the ridge of his erection, moving her hand up and pinning it down by her wrist above her head.

"If you keep doing that, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from taking you," he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck.

"So don't," she whimpered, turning her head to the side to allow him better access. "Take me right now."

Oh, he would if he could. But his conference call meeting was in less than fifteen minutes. There wasn't time to take her properly. "I don't have time to make love to you Ana," he said sadly.

"You said your meeting was at 1:00! It's only 12:46. That's plenty of time for a quickie. Please Christian," she begged, rolling her hips into his.

A quickie? Was she insane? And on the couch in his office? Hell no. There was no way he going to reduce Ana to a quick fuck before a conference call. She deserved better than that.

"We can't baby," he soothed, this lips still dancing along her jaw.

"Just bend me over the arm of the couch," she tried desperately to coax. "I come quickest like that. Just fuck me hard and fast."

The words she was saying sounded like another language to his ears. He couldn't do that with her! Hard and fast was how he'd fucked every sub he'd ever had, including Ana in her one-time role as such. His mind's eye filled with the images of Ana bent over before him, and him punishing and relentless in his rhythm inside of her. Then the aftermath- the blood on her hands. Her tears.

No. No he couldn't do that with her ever again. Sex with her needed to be different than it ever had been with anyone else. She deserved better than to be a hole he stuck his dick in. She was not a submissive. She was his girlfriend. His equal. His Ana. She deserves better than what he'd given to women before. She deserved the slow, deliberate love making that they'd participated in since that night they'd become more. Why was she offering herself to him like this?

Shit.

Did she think this was what he wanted? Did she think that he was unhappy with their sex life, that he was missing BDSM, so she was offering the most of herself that she could to him? Because if that was the case, she needn't worry. He was satisfied with what they had in the bedroom. Love making with Ana was the best sex he'd ever had. Rough fucks were very nice, very pleasurable, but it was more important to him that Ana was comfortable, and that she knew he was happy with her just the way things were. He didn't ever want her to worry that he was trying to make her submit to him. He never wanted her to think he needed that from her. She'd made it clear that she wasn't interested in BDSM after what had transpired between him, her and Elena. He could never, not even for a second, let her think that was what he wanted from her, even if it meant cutting out everything from his sexual repertoire except lovemaking.

He shook his head, denying her once more. "No, Ana. I don't want to," he soothed, trying to convey to her the fact that he didn't need her to do this for him. But it had backfired. The look of hurt on her face immediately told him that he'd chosen the wrong phrasing, that his intended message had only managed to make her think he didn't want to be intimate her at all.

She wiggled underneath him where he still had her pinned to the couch, pushing on his biceps to move him off of her. He wanted to stop her, but she was forceful, and even though she seemed to be consciously making sure not to, he was still quite nervous that she would accidently touch his chest in her frenzy if he didn't move.

"Ana, wait. I didn't mean that how it sounded. I just meant I didn't want to fuck you," he tried to clarify as he pushed up from the couch and closed the gap between them, grabbing for her hand.

"Yeah, I got that," she snapped back, yanking her hand from his grip before he really got a chance to take it. Hastily she yanked her cardigan back into place, pulling it tightly across her body to cover herself from his view.

"I mean **fuck** you, Ana. I always want to _make love_ to you, but I don't ever want to **fuck** you. I don't ever want to just use your body for quick sexual gratification like that. I've always done that… with them. I don't ever want you to think I look at you the same way as I looked at them." She had to value that, right?

But rather than seeming to finally understand what he'd meant and appreciating it, Ana just rolled her eyes in annoyance before snapping at him. "Christian you've got to take me down off this pedestal you've put me on! No, I'm not the helpless, screwed up girl you feared I'd be, but I'm not the perfect woman you've made me into, either. I appreciate where you're coming from, and I love that you care about me and respect me so much that you worry about degrading me, but shit, it's just sex, Christian! I'm not made of glass. I'm not fragile. I am a normal person. I have flaws, like everybody else. I expect, if we're _really_ going to do this, if we are both really **in** this relationship, that we will run the full gamut just like everybody else. We will have highs and lows. We won't be perfect, because no one is. We'll have fun and excitement and happiness. But we'll also have times of frustration and sadness and anger. And we will make love and we'll fuck and we will _live_, Christian. Relationships aren't all hearts and flowers and love making all the time. There will be plenty of that, but you need to come to terms with the fact that there will also be plenty of fighting, and **yes**, _fucking_, as well.

"So… you're saying you _want_ me to fuck you?" he asked dully, like he just couldn't quite grasp the fact. How could she possibly want him to treat her that way?

"Obviously!" she yelled in exasperation. "How many times have I begged you these last couple of weeks to go harder and faster during sex? Just because I'm not a submissive doesn't mean I like sweetie-pie sex all the time. Normal couples fuck Christian. You think I've never been handcuffed to a bed and fucked before? Or spanked? Just because I won't crawl on my hands and knees toward an actual punishment that I'm contractually forced to accept, doesn't mean I don't like to have my ass slapped while I'm on all fours. You think I haven't choked on a dick in my life? Shit, Christian, the sex we've been having is great- mind-blowing- but I'm in no way willing to be tied down to_ just_ that style. Give me something more… life affirming."

He growled, literally growled at her words. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to be angry and jealous that she had just referenced sex she had with other men. He'd always told himself he wanted her to have had those normal sexual experiences after what he'd done to her, and she had, and it was of course a good thing, but now that she was his, he didn't want to think about them, let alone hear about them.

And maybe, later, when he was sitting behind his desk at GEH, or when he was jogging around Seattle the image of Ana choking on some other man's dick would pop into his head and he would blow his shit. Scratch the 'maybe'. **That** would definitely happen at some point. But now, right now, all he could feel was the blood rushing to his groin as evidence of how turned on he was by her words, by the fact that she was not just okay with, but _wanted_ those aspects incorporated into their sex life. This whole time he'd just assumed… But he should know better by now than to assume _anything_ about Ana.

She must have seen it, the look in his eye, because her mask of anger and frustration dropped, and instead all he saw was lust in her eyes as he stalked toward her.

"Life affirming, Miss Steele?" he asked, yanking her toward him and throwing her over his shoulder as she squealed. "I can show you _life affirming_." And with a smack on her ass, he swiftly moved back to the couch.

Only… the phone rang.

"Fuck!" he groaned. "My fucking meeting!" How could he forget? His eyes searched hers like she could give him some answer of how to skip the meeting. But of course he couldn't. He needed to take this call.

She gave him a sympathetic but understanding smile as he pushed off of her and went to his desk to answer the call. He greeted the other men and women on the line as he watched her. Her eyes were still on him, still glazed over with lust. Fuck, she needed to stop looking at him like that. Compelling himself to pull his eyes away from her, he forced himself into CEO mode in order to get this meeting going. Every passing second that he spoke back and forth with the men on the phone was with urgency to give and get the information he needed from them so he could end. this. call.

And he was doing a decent job of focusing, until he happened to catch a movement and let his eyes wander back to Ana. He was caught off guard when he found her leaned back on the couch across from him, her hands slowly trailing up her bare legs, past her knees, up her thighs, her skirt catching on them and tugging up higher…

"_Mr. Grey?" _

Clearing his throat, he sputtered through an answer to the question he has been asked. And even though he'd managed a perfectly intelligent response, it didn't change the fact that his attention was now shifted to the woman who's eyes were burning into his.

He watched her stand, her fingers trailing lightly down her neck, tracing her own collarbone until they reached her cardigan. Then they proceeded to tug it down, off her shoulders, off her arms, until it was discarded onto his office floor.

He swallowed, the nerves of his whole body all at full attention, anticipating what was about to happen, or what he hoped was about to happen.

Slowly she reach around to the base of her neck, gathering her beautiful long hair in her hands and bringing it forward to drape in equal parts over her shoulders. Then he saw her hand disappear behind her, the loosening of the fabric around the front of her body letting him know she was unzipping her dress.

He wasn't able to catch the groan he released until it was too late, and so he was forced to cover it up with a few coughs. The dress slid delicately down her body, fluttering softly down the length of her before pooling at her feet. He couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight in front of him- she was in a pair of lacey peach panties, heels and nothing else. She was braless, he could tell, because her perky pink nipples were poking out past the mess of brown draped down over her breasts.

He licked his lips at the sight of her, wanting nothing more than to feel one of those beautiful pebbles rolling over his tongue again and again.

She prowled toward him then, her lithe little body moving so gracefully he instantly felt like he was witnessing some form of beautiful art-in-motion. She was unwavering in her intentions, closing the gap until she was standing just to his right behind his desk. He'd unconsciously swiveled his chair as he'd followed her movement, so when she reached him, he was facing her. With no preamble, she dropped to her knees before him, her deft fingers instantly working open his belt, then tugging his pants and boxer briefs down his hips to his knees. He'd been completely under her spell, not even realizing that he was aiding her efforts until she had her warm palm wrapped around him, gently stroking up and down, up and down.

He managed to slam his fingertips on the speaker button on his phone, hanging up the handset. The voices of the men on the other line filled the space between them, and somehow he was managing to keep up with his end of the conversation, even though it felt like 98% of his attention on was on his lap.

And it was when her hot, wet mouth wrapped around his manhood that he slammed his fingers down on the mute button milliseconds before a reasonably loud mouth left his mouth. "Jesus, Ana," he sighed, his fingers combing through her hair and pulling it back so he could get a better view.

She gave him no reprieve, taking him to the back of her throat over and over again, her hand, tongue and lips doing an incredible dance over his cock. She pulled her mouth off only once, and that was to lave his balls with her tongue.

It took everything in him to hit the unmute button and respond when needed, but somehow he'd managed to put forth at least that minimal effort even while lost in the ecstasy of Ana's mouth. He loved control in the bedroom, but there was something immensity satisfying about allowing her to do as she pleased to his body. He'd previously worried that giving her control would remind him of how it had been with Elena, but in this moment, Elena was the furthest thing from his mind. And the difference between the two was something so simple, yet so complicated: trust. He trusted Ana, and so letting her control this, control him, was unexpectedly simple and easy. The give and take they'd shared their entire relationship, whether it be friendship or now with more, was something he was still adjusting to, but finding he really loved.

However, as he felt himself nearing release, and he took instant notice that Ana was slowing down, he was questioning letting her maintain control. Her ravenous ministrations were waning, the penetration past her lips more shallow, the sucking less forceful, until he was no longer on the brink of orgasm and she was simple teasing the underside of his head with the tip of her tongue, swirling the engorged purple head gently every few strokes. He watched, not knowing whether to praise her confident boldness and control over his orgasm or to steal it from her by bending her over his desk and fucking her into oblivion.

But he wasn't given long to think about it. One last slow swirl around the ridge of his head, then her lips wrapped over the tip gently, followed by a suck so gentle he barely felt it even on his over sensitized skin, and her mouth was gone. He watched her stand, turn on her heel. She deliberately spread her legs wider, then slowly bend at the waist, her tight nipples and flat stomach melding with the surface of his desk as she pressed her upper body into it. Her arms moved behind her, crossing her wrists at the small of her back, and just like that she had ceded control to him. She'd given him permission to be rough with her. She'd started this game because this is what she wanted. And like hell was he going to pass up an opportunity to give it to her.

With the confidence of a man who was used to control, he slowly removed his shoes and socks before tugging off the pants which were still scrunched down and dangling around his thighs. He was so sure Ana would never want to do anything remotely related to controlling sex like this. Finding out she felt differently was literally thrilling to him. He would have been happy with vanilla for the rest of his life, but the moment she put this on the table, there was no going back. Oh, the things he could do to her now that he knew he was allowed to expand upon his repertoire. The things she could do to _him_. Exploring their limits as a couple was going to be exhilarating. This new exchange of power between them was going to change everything he'd ever know.

Once he was naked from the waist down, he dropped to his knees behind her, his hands starting at the back of her ankles and gliding slowly up the length of the back of her legs. Once he reached her ass, he let his fingertips trace the bottom hem on her panties around where it curved over her right cheek. Then he dipped his finger below the lace, feeling the increased moisture of the fabric as it tapered off between her thighs. With his index finger, he pulled it to the side, running his nose across the soft skin just to the side of the plump wet flesh poking out at him.

"You smell divine, Miss Steele," he whispered, inhaling deeply. "I would ask if you were wet for me, but I can tell just by looking at you. You're glistening like the ocean at sunset. Your lips are swollen and hot to touch," he said, running a fingertip delicately down the length of one side, from her cleft to the puckered skin of her backside. He stood once again, knowing she wanted him to touch her. But if he buried his face in her beautiful pussy right now, he wouldn't resurface until she'd come over and over again in his mouth.

And his lady had requested to be fucked.

So he stood up, wasting no time to make a show of the removal of her panties, instead just tearing them roughly down her thighs. He felt the vast difference of their sizes as he loomed over her petite frame, his right hand gathering her hair up as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to take this off mute, Ana. Can you be a good girl and stay quiet while I fuck you during my conference call?"

"Yes," she answered immediately, both the need and the excitement in her voice not lost on him. Mmm, his baby was a little kinky. Why had he assumed that she'd be against any kink just because she'd told him she could never be a submissive? Who knew that normal people did shit like this all the time? If he'd known, maybe he would have branched out of the lifestyle sooner… No. That wasn't true. Because the only one he wanted to be experiencing this stuff with was Ana.

"Grab the edge of my desk," he commanded, pleased at her immediate compliance. He reached for his phone, his erection brushing against her wet slit as he grabbed it and pulled it closer to him. Then, in one motion, he impaled her with his cock and pressed the button on his phone. And true to her word, Ana remained silent. With one hand on her hip and one covering hers on the edge of the desk, Christian dug his hips into her roughly. He watched her turn her face into her arm, using it to seal her lips and ensure no sound escaped as he relentlessly continued to pounding deeply inside of her.

Her body was keening underneath his, and he knew she was close already. There was no doubt about how much she was enjoying this.

"Do you feel that Ana," his low voice spoke next to the shell of her ear, the tone so low it was barely decipherable. "Do you feel my cock inside of you, owning you?" Her head bobbed up and down erratically in a nod. "Now that I know you want this, do you have any idea what else I'm going to do to your body, Ana? Do you have any idea the things I am capable of making you feel?" Her head jerked back and forth quickly. "No, you don't. But you will baby. You will," he promised, pulling his sweaty chest off her back and standing up straight.

His fingertip reached between her thighs and found her clit pressing it just right to bring her to the brink of her orgasm. He watched her left hand leave the edge of his desk as she used it to quickly cover her mouth, a muffled moan barely audible through her fingers.

With his left hand he pressed the mute button once again, and as soon as he did he tilted his hips to hit her g-spot over and over while he commanded, "Now come for me Ana. Loud. I want to hear you."

Her left hand grasped for the edge of the desk again as a primal scream left her lips, her whole body jolting forward with each thrust, while simultaneously convulsing with the intensity of her orgasm.

"Christian," she let out in a guttural moan, one that let him know his incessant deep penetration during her orgasm was pulling her in overwhelmingly heightened directions.

But the sound of his name, so licentious on her lips, was all he needed to push him past his own breaking point, and with a grunt, he emptied himself into her still quivering pussy.

"_So unless anyone has anything else to add, I think that about sums it all up_," the disembodied voice rose from the speaker.

Christian hit the unmute button, quickly thanking the other men for their time before disconnecting the call. Then he let out a deep, contented sigh, his forehead dropping down to rest on the back of Ana's shoulder. He felt her fingertips brush through his hair, her nails lightly scraping at his scalp. It sent a low roll of pleasure through his body, the act so simple yet so intimate. His hips pushed forward of their own accord, the pair letting out simultaneous gentle groans of pleasure as they did.

Christian placed a few light kisses on the round of Ana's shoulder, then trailed them across the back of it until he reached her neck. The giggle that escaped her lips when he did caused a boyish grin to spread across his face. This moment was fucking perfect.

"You're amazing," he whispered in her ear, feeling her smile immediately. He pulled out of her then, reluctantly, the fleeting thought of wishing he could spend his whole life inside of her coming and going. He helped pull her upright, turning her toward him so he could take in the sight, the moment one last time before they moved to dress. She was flushed a beautiful shade of red, her skin wonderfully tacky with a slight sheen of sweat. She was a gorgeous sight in the nude, but even more so in their post-coital moments.

He reached for her waist, pulling her a half step closer so he could feel her soft skin under his hands. Would he ever get enough of her? He couldn't fathom a time that would come to pass.

"I wish I could put into words what you make me feel, Ana. I wish I could articulate exactly what it is you do to me," he whispered, his freehand gently gripping her chin to he could place a chaste kiss on her beautiful lips.

"You don't need to tell me, Christian," she said with an easy smile. "I feel it from you every moment we're together."

"You make me so happy," he whispered, his lips pressing lightly to hers over and over, each kiss a little longer than the last. His fingers trailed up the bare skin of her side, over her hip, up the side of her ribs until they were adjacent to her breast. His thumb found her nipple immediately, rolling gentle circles around the nub until it stood at full attention. "You might be the best thing that ever happened to me. And that means a lot considering what Grace and Carrick did for me."

His lips left hers to find her other nipple, pulling it lightly, then softly suckling it. Her soft sighs egged him on until his fingers were pushing inside of her, pulling out the wetness from their combined orgasms and spreading it up her cleft where he proceeded to thrum his fingers across her clit like he was a musician playing his favorite instrument.

"Jesus, you're like a machine," she groaned when he pressed his erection against her hip, letting her know his intentions.

"I want to make love to you, Ana," he whispered, forgoing his ministrations on her nipple and her clit and wrapping his arms around her, hoisting her in the air to carry her back to the couch where tonight had all started. "Now that we broke the ice, so to speak, with a good hard fuck, can I please make love to you?"

"Yes, Christian," she sighed contentedly. "Make love to me."

* * *

Christian checked his watch, seeing it was ten to seven. He'd invited Elliot over for some beers and to watch the Mariner's game this evening, so he quickly made some notes on the papers he was looking at before putting them aside for the night. He could finish this in the morning.

Leaving his office, he went to his living room to wait for Elliot to arrive, which he did so just a few minutes later. As the elevator door slid open to reveal his brother, Christian stood from his spot on the couch and went to great him.

Elliot cocked his head to the side, seemingly confused.

"What?" Christian asked, pausing where he stood.

"What's going on?" Elliot asked, his tone curious, maybe slightly wary letting Christian know it wasn't a- 'hey, what's up', greeting, but a legitimate question asking him what was happening.

Christian looked down at himself, not understand what it was Elliot was questioning. All he'd done was literally stand up and walk toward him.

"I don't understand what you mean," Christian said looking back up at his brother.

"What are you doing? Do you have to cancel? Do you have a meeting or something?" he asked, a hint of annoyance to his words now.

A meeting? Where the hell was this coming from? "What? No! What are you talking about? Why would you think that?"

"I just assumed you were on your way out the door?" Elliot said, the upturn in his inflection indicating it was more a question than a statement.

"No…" Christian trailed off, looking at the door, completely lost.

"I—" Elliot started, "Then what are you doing out here?"

"What am I- I'm… _greeting_ you. What—Why do you keep asking what I'm doing?"

"You're _**greeting**_ me?" Elliot asked, his jaw dropping in shock.

"Yes!" Christian huffed in aggravation.

"You're greeting me," Elliot mumbled, mostly to himself.

Christian rolled his eyes at his brother. "Are you coming in or not? The game is starting soon."

Elliot nodded, kicking off his boots and following his brother into the TV room.

Christian went to the bar, taking out a couple of Elliot's favorite beers, some brand from a small brewery in the Midwest that was hard to come by.

"This is my favorite beer. It's like, impossible to get," Elliot said, staring in wonder, first at the beer, then at his brother.

Christian just shrugged. Anything is possible if you offer the right price for it. Christian had done just that and had been able to get two six packs rush delivered two days ago specially for tonight. And the owner, who he'd contacted personally, and been more than happy to re-supply him with more in the future, even giving Christian his personal cell phone number when he was ready to place an order.

"Did you know this was my favorite beer?" Elliot asked, looking back at his brother again, that same shocked look on his face as when Christian had told him he was greeting him.

Christian nodded. "Yes. You mentioned it about a month back."

Elliot's green eyes searched Christian's as they both stood there for what felt like forever. Christian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, revealing his discomfort. What was up with Elliot tonight?

"You've changed," Elliot said quietly. "Like, really changed."

"What are you talking about?" Christian asked, bristling.

"Don't," Elliot warned. "Don't get defensive. It's true."

"Maybe a little," Christian said with an awkward, dismissive shrug. "Not much."

"A lot," Elliot corrected. "You invited me over for a game. You… you greeted me at the door, Christian! _You_. Not Taylor. Not Gail. **You**. I've been here a bit over the years, not a ton, but a bit, and never once have you greeted me at the door. Hell, I was lucky if you stopped working and came out of your office within the first twenty minutes of me being here."

"Elliot—"

"And you got my favorite beer. You paid attention to something I said in passing and then made special arrangements to have it for me."

"It's not—"

"It is. It is a big deal, so don't blow it off."

Christian stayed silent, his long fingers beginning to anxiously pick at the label on the beer bottle.

"Why now?" Elliot asked gently.

Christian eyes slowly rose to meet his brother's, but still he remained silent.

"For Ana?" Elliot asked, knowingly.

Christian sighed, his shoulders sagging a little. "She deserves better than what I was."

"So you're working on bettering yourself for her?"

He gave a half shrug, then a small nod. "For me, too. I have to do it first and foremost for myself. But yes, also for her."

"You're working with your therapist?"

Christian let out a dry laugh. "Three days a week."

Elliot smirked, knowing how much his brother had always hated seeing therapists. "But it's going well?" he asked, serious again.

Christian nodded. "Very well, actually."

"Good," Elliot said firmly. "Does Ana know?"

"Know what?"

Elliot shrugged. "Anything? Everything?" Elliot didn't know everything, or perhaps anything, there was to know about his brother, but he sure understood why it was important for Ana to be aware of his baggage if there was going to be any chance for the two of them.

Christian motioned toward the couch, both of them walking over to take a seat on opposite ends. "She knows everything about my past. My childhood as well as… everything else," he said, somewhat guiltily since he knew Elliot had no idea what 'everything else' entailed. "There's… history between she and I that no one knows about. That history made it easier for me to open up to her early on about some things I like to otherwise keep private."

Elliot nodded, trying not to let it sting that he had opened up to Ana about his private life when he'd never felt comfortable doing the same with his own brother. Elliot had always wished they could have had that type of relationship. But in the end, it was just good that Christian had at least found _someone_ to open up to, and Ana seemed like a trustworthy person for it, at least from what he knew. He couldn't argue that her being in Christian's life had been nothing but a positive influence so far. "Does she know you have feelings for her? That you're making changes with her in mind?"

"I haven't told her in so many words that I'm changing, in part, for her, but I think she knows she's the catalyst for it all," he took a long gulp of his beer, and if Elliot didn't know any better, he swear he saw a light blush on his brother's cheeks—an honest to God _blush_. "As for my… _feelings_ for her. We've sort of been seeing each other, so yeah, she knows about that."

"Seeing each other, huh? Just casual dating or is it more serious?" Elliot asked, trying to keep his voice even. The idea of his brother finally dating a woman, let alone a sweetheart like Ana had his chest swelling with joy. He wanted nothing in this world more than to see his brother finally happy. But he didn't want to embarrass him, or risk him shutting down when he finally had him talking so openly. He didn't know if this was a fluke, or the result of some of his changes, but at this point and time he wasn't willing to risk it.

"We haven't really discussed a label or anything, and I don't want to speak for her, but it's more than casual. It's still pretty new, that whole aspect between us. But it's like nothing I've ever known. _She's_ like no one I've ever known. She's…" he trailed off. But he spoke with such reverence, Elliot could only imagine what he was thinking about in that moment.

"You love her?" he blurted out, not meaning to, knowing it might have been too big a push.

And when Christian immediately sucked in a sharp breath, Elliot was sure for a second that he **had** ruined the moment, but surprisingly Christian looked up at him, the look in his eyes so earnest as he spoke. "I want to," he said. "I'm not sure if I can. I'm not sure if I know how. But heaven knows she deserves it, and God help me, I want to more than anything."

"That's huge, Christian," Elliot praised, knowing just how big of a deal all this was. Christian bettering himself, trying for a woman, caring for a woman, and then being open and honest with Elliot about it. They were all such monumental steps for him. "And I think you'll get there," he said encouragingly. He knew it wouldn't help to tell him it was a sure thing, that he already knew Christian had the capacity to love someone, even though Elliot knew that without a doubt to be the truth. Telling him that wouldn't matter. Christian needed to learn it on his own, and Elliot was confident that with all the recent strides he'd made, that he would be able to come to those conclusions on his own sooner rather than later.

"Yeah?" Christian asked.

"Yeah," Elliot confirmed.

And for the first time since the brothers were about fourteen and seventeen years old, they relaxed, both fully comfortable in each other's presence.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?"

Christian broke the comfortable silence of the library. He had needed to get some work done but wanted Ana to stay the night, so she had decided to read while he worked. But after less than thirty minutes of them being separate under the same roof, he'd grabbed his laptop and sought her out, finding her curled up on a sofa in the library. He'd walked in, wordlessly pulling a coffee table over, then settled in the spot next to her, propping his feet up and the laptop on his thighs. He'd glanced over at her, watched her send him a little smirk, he'd shrugged in return, then he'd gone back to his work and she'd gone back to her book.

Slipping her index finger between the pages of her book, she closed the cover. "Of course," she said, automatically turning her body toward him, her voice soft.

"What were your thoughts about me this whole time leading up until now?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, her face clearly displaying her confusion.

Clicking his laptop closed, he set it down on the table, causing her to disregard her book to the same fate in order to give each other their full attention.

"Did you ever see us getting here? Was there ever an inkling inside of you that we might have a future together? In the beginning, I know this was the last thing I ever thought could be between us, because I didn't think this was possible for me. And I had thought that I'd maintained that same perception the whole time, but looking back on it, I think I was just lying to myself. Things started shifting in my head a long time ago where you were concerned, and I denied them for as long as I could, but I think, subconsciously this is where I wanted to be for a while now. But I don't really know how you felt about our relationship this whole time. You made it clear that you wanted a friendship, but I guess I was just curious if you ever thought, or even hoped, that _this_ is where we would eventually end up instead."

She bit her lip for a brief second, releasing it quickly before a quick, "No," pushed through them.

Her eyes met his, seemingly embarrassed, thought he didn't know why. He didn't mind if this turn of events was something she hadn't anticipated. He could see why she would have had zero interest in any kind of relationship with him beyond friendship. He was just genuinely curious about what had been going on in her head this whole time. Taking her hand, he encouraged her to elaborate.

"I honestly did just want to be your friend Christian. It was all I ever had any intention of doing. It started out where I just wanted to let you know how grateful I was for you giving me the money that put me through college, but then as I started to realize what your life actually was… I felt _sorry_ for you. You were a man who had it all and had nothing at the same time. It was plain for me to see how good of a person you were, but you couldn't see it in yourself. It was obvious you had cut yourself off from any real interaction with people in order to keep your private life a secret, and it just seemed like you needed _someone_ to break through and fill the friendship role in your life. I was in a unique position where I already knew about your secret, but could see the good in you despite what you deemed as your flaws, so I thought I had a pretty good chance of being the one who could break down your walls a bit. It was obvious that the damage that Elena did to you was much more far reaching than you knew. It didn't feel right turning my back on someone who only was the way he was because he'd been abused physically and mentally by a predator. And you were so adamant about how much it upset you what you'd done to me. I never even entertained the idea that _you_ could feel anything like that toward _me_. Truthfully I thought I repulsed you physically due to our past and what you associated me with. So no, I never even thought about, let alone _expected_ anything to happen between us."

"Why did it, then?" he asked, needing to know what sparked the change in her. Because he still felt the trill of fear that he'd taken advantage of her the night after she'd been attacked.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I don't have some grand answer for you, Christian. You're this deeply methodical person who thrives on planning and detail. I'm not. I work better on impulse. So when you kissed me that night, I simply kissed back. I could sit here and tell you that a million thoughts ran through my mind, before I decided to kiss you back, but that would be a lie. I just… did it. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the moment that gave me the extra push, who knows, but I just went with it. And I'm sure if I sat down, I could come up with a pros and cons list a mile long for why we should or should not pursue what we are right now, but that's just not who I am. You follow your brain, I follow my heart. And until I am given a reason to question what's between us, I won't. I'm just on for the ride, come whatever may."

"That sounds very casual," he said breathed out in a shaky breath, not liking the sinking feeling in his gut that told him she was much less invested in this than he was.

But she took his hand, gripping it tightly to bring his attention back to her eyes. When they met, she spoke again, "I didn't mean to make it sound overly simplified. I just mean that there's no pressure. Like I keep telling you, this is new, and we're just still finding our footing here. But I care about you Christian. A lot, already."

"So if I told you one day that I was falling in love with you?"

"Whether I felt the same or not, it's always nice to be loved," she said with just genuine lightness that made Christian wish with renewed conviction that one day he could view love that way. But he also knew the dark reality that more than likely awaited him.

"And if I told you one day that, despite my best efforts, I was sure I would never be capable of love?"

But she shrugged. "Then I knew going in that you were completely honest with me about your fears regarding that topic. I could never fault you for something you cannot control. All I ever want between us is honesty." She leaned forward then, their bodies now less than a foot apart, locking eyes with him, hers turning dark as her face shadowed with seriousness. "If one day you tell me you can't love me, I will remind you that just because you can't love _me_ doesn't mean you can't love anyone. And maybe we are just not meant to be, but to please never give up on love. For all we know, I was brought into your life to be the one to break down your walls so that when the right woman does come along, you are ready for her. We don't know our destiny yet. But you deserve love, and _I_ am one-hundred percent sure that you are capable of giving it, even if it's not to me."

Her words made his throat swell with emotion. She'd given him everything of herself in order to bring him out of the darkness and into the light. Step by step she led him, nudging him gently along no matter how rude or selfish he'd been toward her along the way. She sliced herself open and gave herself willingly to him, and he'd taken every ounce of support she'd offered and used it to piece himself back together, to patch his own holes. She'd suffered both physical and emotionally at his hands, yet self-sacrificingly helped him for no other reason than to see him happy. And still, here she was, telling him that if one day she said 'I love you' and he replied, 'I can't', that she would respond simply with encouragement for him to try again anew. She was so effortlessly and completely selfless that it made his heart ache behind his sternum.

"Ana," he whispered, his voice edged with a mixture of complete seriousness and unparalleled sincerity. "If I could ever love anyone it'd be you," he said, taking her face in his hands and planting a gentle kiss on her lips.


	21. Chapter 21

Another day, another session with Flynn. Christian had just finished recounting his latest conversation with Ana, the one where she had detailed her desire to see him love someone in this life, whether or not it was her.

At the time, he'd just been relieved that she wasn't pressuring him to feel those things for her. Because, as had always been his story, he was very unsure they were ever things he could feel. But the more he'd mulled the conversation over, it started to bother him. Was she setting them up for failure already? Did she sense something about him, about them, already that made her think love wasn't a possibility? It started to eat away at him, and the more he thought about it, the more he was sure she was laying the groundwork for an eventual separation. And if she didn't have faith in an eventual love for them, what chance did he stand to obtain those feelings?

He knew what he wanted, and he wanted to love and be loved. He wanted to _love_ **Ana** and _be loved_ by **Ana**. But now that he had these thoughts swirling about her bowing out, he was scared of letting himself get there. She was a better person than him; he wasn't like her. He would never survive it if he proclaimed his love to her and she couldn't reciprocate. It would slay him. He was a logical man. He understood on a logical level that life wasn't a fairy tale, and that there were many things in this life that could tear apart two people who were legitimately in love. There was no sure thing. Nothing was easy, nothing could be taken for granted. Love took work, he understood that concept. So sure, maybe 'forever' wasn't their personal path, but he'd like to do everything in his power to forge that path as far as it could possibly go.

He'd never been one to listen intently during his therapy sessions. To be quite honest, he'd maintained much of his teenage aloofness while sitting on John Flynn's red leather sofa. That was until recently. Now he always found himself sitting up straight, his attention fully on his therapist, ready and more than willing to really listen to everything the Brit had to say. And today was no exception to that.

With his ass on the edge of the seat and his elbows on his knees, he leaned a little closer as he finished up explaining his most recent musings to the good doctor. He really wanted to know John's take on everything Ana had said to him about their future.

Relaxing back into his own seat, John removed his bifocals from his face, folding them up and resting them on the side table to his right. He clicked his pen, the point retreating back inside of the housing. His dark brown eyes found Christian's blazing gray.

"As I've prefaced during many of our sessions, I am not here to give you any concrete answers, let alone easy ones. Especially regarding the meaning of _other_ people's words." John started.

"I know," Christian rushed. He knew John couldn't tell him—yes, it does sound like she's setting your relationship up for failure, or—no, you're reading too much into it. He can't come here expecting a yes or no. He just wanted to talk it out.

"That being said, your Ana truly sounds like a remarkable woman." _His_ Ana. God, did he enjoy the sound of those words. "From all the information you've given me on her, she sounds like a very bright, logical, realistic woman, yet one who gives of herself freely and lives for others."

Christian nodded.

"That being said," John trailed off for a moment, leaning forward again, making Christian imperceptibly do the same. "She sounds like the type of person who is **so** selfless, that it may come at the cost of her own self-preservation."

"Explain, please," Christian urged him to continue, his heart rate picking up.

"It's not that I think she's setting your relationship up for failure, so much as I think she's doing everything she can to set _you_ up for success. It seems like Ana is doing everything she can to help _you_ find _your_ way. Doing and saying whatever she can to encourage you. But she may be sacrificing too much of herself. Everything for her seems to center around your needs and your comfort. Everything she does or that you two do together is done with you in mind. But when have either of you stopped to make sure she's being fulfilled in this relationship? Have you truly explored her wants, her likes, her needs, and made an effort to show her you are willing to satisfy them? You've taken her gliding, on your helicopter on your boat… all things you love and enjoy—"

"And she did too," Christian interrupted harshly, defensively.

"She may very well have," Flynn placated. "And it's fine- _good_ that you wanted to show her those things."

"I want to show her the world," Christian interrupted again.

"And, again, that's perfectly fine. You should want to share your interests with her. And it's wonderful if she learns to enjoy them as well. But that's not my point. My point is, what have you done that's specific to _her_? You and Ana communicate intensely about _you_, but do you ever stop to ask about _her_? What have you let her teach you about herself?"

"She hasn't really… tried. If she mentioned something she wanted to do, I would of course be more than happy to do whatever she wanted…"

"But that's my point. She's so caught up in making sure you're happy, you're comfortable, that she is letting herself fall second. A perfect example is your sex life thus far. Obviously when it came to sex, you assumed her needs rather than discussing them, and you turned out to be wrong. And yes, she managed to be forthcoming with you about her needs. But it took time, and it came out in the midst of anger and hurt feelings because she thought you were turning her down. Is that how you want to learn everything about her as a person? On the heels of some fight because you never bothered to ask? That whole fight could have been avoided if you'd ever taken the time to ask her what she liked in bed. And we both know it's not because you were too shy to talk about sex. You did it all the time with your subs—sat down and talked it out and even spelled it all out in black and white on paper."

Christian ran his hands over his face in frustration. Was he really the selfish prick Flynn was making him out to be?

As if he'd read his mind, Flynn interjected, "People with those types of personalities make it hard to realize you're doing something wrong. She's likely, for the most part, perfectly happy attending to your needs. It's inherent in her to do everything possible to make sure you're taken care of. She's not silently brooding that you don't give her the same amount of consideration. She's focused on you and completely content being so. She might be this way because it's just how she's wired, or it might stem from her past psychological history, or a combination of both. Obviously, from what you've told me, she's suffered a lot of psychological trauma and mental abuse as well. Without talking to her, I can't begin to guess where she stands on her own issues. But I can say that it's not healthy for her to always put herself last. That's why she needs a partner who will put her first, as well. You need to show her that her happiness is just as important as yours. It seems like she is bending over backwards to make sure you grow and flourish while she might be wilting in the meant time."

"But that doesn't make any sense. She has fought me tooth and nail from day one. She's pissed me off more times than I can count. She's walked out on me more than once. She's had no problem telling me like it is and putting me in my place on multiple occasions. Her pushing me is what got me here. So it would make no sense for her to suddenly go from this fierce personality who defended herself to one who rolls over for my benefit."

"Again, I cannot give definitive answers without having time to speak with and get to know Ana personally. But I do know that some people operate very differently externally verses how they really feel deep inside. She may be full of conviction and fire outside, and be very insecure inside. Or maybe it's because of the way your relationship has evolved. Maybe she didn't feel the need to delve too deeply in the beginning because you two were essentially strangers at that point. Maybe she didn't feel she owed you anything, but now that time has allowed you to slowly build a connection, a friendship, and ultimately, a romantic relationship, her sense of loyalty to you and your growth has changed into something she now cares deeply about and for which she feels responsible to encourage. She likely just wants what's best for you, and is now happily willing to do whatever necessary to encourage your happiness as well."

They sat in silence while Christian mulled over everything John had said.

"We're out of time, I'm afraid," John finally broke into his train of thought. "But I would like to suggest that you discuss your fears of Ana leaving with her. I'd like to reiterate that, from what you told me, I don't think she's trying to set up your relationship for failure, but rather set up your personal future for success. But inadvertently, she might be doing both. You need to talk to her. Let her know what you're feeling, what you're concerned about, and see what she says. I get the feeling she's always going to be willing to be honest with you, and that's good for you, for her, and for you two as a couple."

* * *

_-Went out with Kate to Mile High-_ **XO Ana**

Christian sighed, crumpling up the note he'd found on his pillow, instead of his girlfriend. He'd had his session with Flynn sandwiched between the end of his work day and a dinner meeting he'd scheduled with his corporate attorney. He'd headed back home with every intention of confronting Ana about his feelings regarding their conversation. But she wasn't here. She was out. At a Mile High. A club. His club. The club he'd_ just_ left.

He wished he'd known she was there. He would have—

…what?

Gone to the dance club level and joined her? Off the cuff, the likelihood of that seemed slim to nil. He knew the crowd his club drew. It was all twenty-somethings with deep pockets, all getting wasted and dirty dancing, making out as means of public foreplay before splitting off to their apartments for easy one night stands. It wasn't a scene he was interested in in the least.

Except… his girlfriend was there. So the more he thought about it… Yes. He would have joined her.

He imagined her there, calm and relaxed, laughing and happy. She was so easy going- so genuinely good. He smiled, thinking about her. Hell, he always smiled while thinking about her. He wondered if she was drinking… dancing? She looked so sexy when she was dancing. He started to imagine the way her hips swayed, her breast lightly bouncing, her hair flowing in soft waves around her shoulders. She was probably singing along with the music—she loved to do that. He imaged what she might be wearing- a dress and heels, he was sure. Something tight, something he could inch slowly up her thighs once she got home…

He felt his dick twitch as the thoughts blooming in his head. Now he was thinking of the little nooks and crannies of the club to which he could whisk her away in order to make good on his fantasy. He liked to keep his club clean of that sort of shit, but where there's a will, there's a way, and he knew the clubs' patrons always found ways to manage closet or bathroom hook ups.

The idea of the clubs _other_ patrons latched on to his brain, and he felt the inklings of unease begin to unfurl. Other people. Other _men_. His sexy as fuck girlfriend was in a club right now almost certainly garnering the attention of countless assholes. Their eyes raking over her body, imaging the same thoughts he'd just been entertaining—wondering what was under that dress, wondering where they could take her for a quick fuck.

He felt his body bristle at the thought. He could trust Ana, of that he was sure. But the male clientele of Mile High? Not so much.

In a split second decision, he was in his closet, quickly changing out of his suit and into something more suitable for the club atmosphere. He would have denied it to anyone who asked, but he knew he'd spent the few extra moments to pick out something… purposeful. He may be just a pretty face, and one he resented most of the time, but tonight he was going to take advantage of the fact that he had the looks and body to leave the women swooning—even if it was only for the one woman he wanted to swoon.

The jeans he chose hung of his hips just right, the fitted plain white t-shirt, and the dark brown leather jacket. His hair was the perfect amount of disheveled, the stubble forming on his chin adding just the right edge.

He let Taylor know he was leaving and driving himself, his services not needed for the night. Still, his CPO followed him, grabbing a different set of keys from the utility closet. The ever present, ever ready Jason Taylor.

Christian made the quick trip to the club in his R8, a smirk on his face as the valet took his keys with a childlike grin. Yeah, it was a nice car…

He bypassed the line, the bouncer at the door immediately recognizing him, letting him through with an eager 'Hello, Mr. Grey." He got the same sycophantic reception from the club's promoter, the general manager, as well as a few waitresses, and he hadn't even made it to the VIP section yet, where he knew Kate and Ana would be.

And when he finally made it back to the closed off VIP area, immediately a tall, thin woman with honey blonde hair and a tiny little dress approached him.

"Mr. Grey," she smiled seductively. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome. Steph, the promoter told me you were on your way back to my section. My name is Amanda. I'm the VIP Manager."

"Hello," he greeted tightly. Sometimes he wished he could be friendlier to people, especially his staff, but so many of these women made it so damn difficult. If he gave them an inch, they took a mile. A smile from him was all the encouragement some of these predatory women needed. They took it as a sign that he was interested. He'd once gone down to personally thank a managerial staff member for her hard work, just to make sure he was showing his appreciation to the staff that helped keep his business running. He'd commended her, telling her how impressed he was with her professionalism, her work ethic, her drive… She'd lunged at him seconds later, throwing her arms around his shoulders and planting her lips on his. He'd pushed her off immediately, and a praise for a job well done and turned into a firing in less than a minute. It was the last time he'd expressed his appreciation for an employee as anything other than a percentage increase on their paycheck, and even that wasn't done without HR present. But in his day to day life, he often found himself needing to come off as an asshole just to deter women from pursuing him more adamantly. He was used to it by now, but sometimes he wished he could just be… nice.

But his aloof reaction didn't seem to deter Amanda, as she saddled up next to him. "You picked a great night to come in. We have a very popular guest DJ in tonight. The crowd has been loving him. Is there anything I can get you? I've made myself available to service any and all of your needs this evening."

"No, thank you, Amanda," he said dismissively, his eyes searching for Ana among the crowd. It didn't take long to find her. Maybe it was the surreal connection they seemed to share. Maybe it was simple luck. But upon his first cursory glance to the VIP dance floor, he spotted her. He heard Amanda talking again, her tone laced with disappointment, but he wasn't really listening to her words. He did notice when someone came up to grab her, and she excused herself, promising to return. He huffed, then rolled his eyes to himself. By then, he would hopefully have Ana in his arms and Amanda would get the message and back off.

His eyes were still glued to the only woman in the room worth looking at. She was exactly as advertised in his brain- dress, heels, long flowing hair, and gorgeous plump lips mouthing the words to the song as she draped her arms over Kate's shoulders, grinding her hips against those of her best friend. He had no attraction what-so-ever to Miss Kavanagh, but even he couldn't deny the uptick in his arousal at the sight of Ana grinding on another woman.

But his eyes narrowed when he realized he wasn't the only one enjoying the show. Of course he wasn't. Because even though Katherine was the furthest thing from his type, he couldn't deny that he knew she was the epitome of beauty to many other men. So to see these two beautiful women, seemingly lost in their own world, scantily clad bodies moving in perfect sync to the pulsating rhythm of the music? Yeah, plenty of predatory male eyes were focused on the show.

And it seemed he wasn't the only one who noticed the male attention. Because before he could go out there himself, he saw the solid wall of male body and blonde curls weave its way through the crowd and stop in front of Ana. His brother, who he hadn't known would be here with the girls, handed each girl a shot glass. The three clinked them together before downing them in unison. Then Elliot leaned down to speak in Ana's ear, a wide grin on his face as he spoke. Kate and Ana laughed, then he said something else that causing Ana to roll her eyes with a smile and a shake of her head. She light tapped his cheek before placing a quick kiss on it, extricating herself from Kate and letting Elliot take her spot. She grabbed the empty glasses from them, then motioned to where Christian knew the bathrooms were then started to make her way in that direction.

He kept his eyes on her while he too moved toward the bathroom, watching her drop the shot glasses of at the bar on her way. He shot the bartender a glare as he ignored everyone waiting for drinks to take the glasses from Ana and speak to her for a moment. She seemed unaffected by whatever he said, then turned away, and Christian watched the asshole's eyes follow her before someone at the bar snapped him out of his trance.

Ana was slightly off kilter on her feet as she went toward the corridor of bathrooms, which meant she probably had a decent amount of alcohol in her system. He was suddenly relieved to know he was here to provide her with a safe ride home.

The hall with the VIP bathrooms was filled with small, individual rooms instead of one room with stalls. It was deserted when he reached it. Not knowing which one Ana had gone into, he leaned back against the wall to wait for her to come out. A moment later a door near him opened and he knew not enough time had passed for it to be Ana exiting the stall.

"Mr. Grey!" the VIP manager squeaked out, obviously surprised by his presence just outside of the bathroom door. He groaned internally. Couldn't it have been anybody but her? Her eyes shifted around for a moment, looking at the empty corridor, and he saw something flash in her eyes. Confusion, but then something almost… excited? Hopeful? He got the immediate feeling that she was considering the fact that he'd actually been standing out here wait for _her_.

He watched her back arch slightly, her breasts pushing forward. She swiped her tongue over her lips as he eyes descending from his face down his body, then back up. She took a brave step forward, her fluttering eyelashes revealing her eyes were now lit with lust. "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Grey? Did you think of any needs that need servicing? _ Anything _at all?" The low, husky lilt to her voice made him want to laugh in her face. Was she serious?

Before he could decline her desperate offer, another bathroom door clicked open, and out stepped the perfect specimen that was Anastasia Steele.

She was in a skin tight royal blue little number with some nude colors heels that made her legs look like they went on forever.

She wobbled on her feet a little, her arm shooting out to grab for the door frame like she thought she was going to fall. She let out a quiet giggle before twisting the bathroom door handle and softly closing, like someone would do if they were trying not to wake up a sleeping person. When she looked up, she came to a halt as soon as she noticed there were other people in the hall, and her eyes found his a moment later. She was usually so hard to read, but in her obviously inebriated state, her eyes were clear as day to him. They left his gaze almost as soon as they'd found it, instead opting to focus on his body. He didn't think he'd ever felt quite as much like a piece of meat before as he did under Ana's current gaze. She searched his body hungrily, her blue eyes taking on their customary darker depth when she was turned on. He could see it in her whole body, the way she squirmed slightly in her heels, her lip pulled between her teeth. And if he hadn't been able to tell then, she certainly made it clear when she finally spoke.

"Holy shit you look so hot," she let out with this husky, breathy voice, followed by a groan. The actual words, as well as her tone while she spoke them, shot straight to his groin, immediately conjuring up images of taking her back into the bathroom and defiling every inch of her delectable body.

And he might have too, if they'd been alone. But they weren't, and he was reminded of that fact when he saw Amanda stiffen up, like a wild animal when their hackles rise.

"I apologize, Mr. Grey. I'll take care of this," she said, turning to face Ana. "Miss, you have way overstepped your boundaries by addressing Mr. Grey in such a disrespectful manner. It's obvious to me that you've been overserved, so I will have to insist you leave the club immediately. If you choose not to, I'll be forced to have security remove you from the premises."

Ana's eyebrows shot up on her head in surprise as the vitriolic way Amanda was speaking to her. Her eyes darted to Christian for a moment, and then she dissolved into giggles again. Amanda huffed at her in annoyance, and Christian did everything he could to keep from showing any emotion on his face. He kind of wanted to see what drunk Ana was going to do. Normally she would have spat words right back at someone who talked to her so rudely. But instead, she was giggling like a little girl, and he was moments away from laughing at the whole thing himself.

"There is nothing funny about this, Miss," Amanda insisted, stealing a glance at Christian before continuing. "Now are you going to leave, or should I call over a bouncer to escort you out?"

Ana managed to control her laughing, taking in a deep breath and straightening herself up. She tried to plaster on a serious face, but it was obvious to Christian that she was barely hiding her amusement.

"I don't want to go," she said, her voice and face all pouty, reminding him of the time they went to Canlis and the waiter told her they were out of her favorite dessert. Amanda opened her mouth to talk, but Ana cut her off. "Maybe Mr. Grey will allow me to stay if I apologize." She turned toward Christian, her big eyes even wider like a sad puppy. "I'm so, so sorry Mr. Grey. I meant no disrespect," she said, stepping closer. "Please don't kick me out of your club."

Christian brought his hand up to his face, his index finger running along his bottom lip in an attempt to hide his smile. But he saw the way Ana's eyes darkened, watching his finger before finding his eyes again. He cleared his throat, assuming his CEO persona, pretending to be stern. "I don't normally stand for such disrespect." She inched closer to him, and he wasn't sure if she knew she was doing it. He knew Amanda was watching them, confused, because it was odd that she was getting closer and closer as they spoke. But he knew it was because she was just drawn to him, as he was to her.

"Am I forgiven, Mr. Grey?" she asks, closing the final bit of distance, slowly sliding her body up against his, absentmindedly arching her back so her breasts pressed against his torso.

His smirk finally broke through at the contact. "I suppose I could, Miss Steele," he murmured, placing a kiss to the top of her head. She looked back up at him with a smile. "Hi, baby," he mumbled, still aware of their audience.

But if Ana remembered Amanda was there, she didn't show it, or just didn't care. Because she grinned before curling her fingers around the back of his head and pulled him mouth down onto hers. Their lips fused then parted quickly, a flick of his tongue enough for him to taste just how much she'd been drinking. Her quick but loud moan was encouragement to both stop _and_ keep going—keep going because he wanted to, but stop because if he didn't, he was sure she wouldn't. So, making the judgment call, he pulled away, placing a chaste kiss on her immediate pout as he did.

He dared a glance at Amanda, who was watching them intently, her face red, her arms straight down at her sides, her hands balled into tight fists as she fumed silently.

"I think we'll forgive Miss Steele for her indiscretion, this time," he said, watching her posture crumble and sadness fill her eyes

"Yes, sir," she said, her voice so remorseful you'd think she'd just been told a close family member had died.

"You can get back to work. Miss Steele was my only need, and now I have her."

He watched tears, actual _tears_ form in Amanda's eyes as she nodded her head erratically and scurried away, clearly jilted.

He felt Ana's fingers tugging at his hair again as soon as they were alone, and urgently her lips found his. "I missed you," she mumbled against his mouth before pulling away again. "Wanna dance with me?"

"It would be my pleasure," he grinned, taking her hand and leading her back out onto the floor.

* * *

They'd spent the night dancing and drinking until the club closed. He'd never stayed at a club until it closed before. He'd gone out to bars with Elliot and stayed out late, but rarely to clubs, and never until closing time. But last night had been so much fun. Just simple, easy fun. Elliot and Kate welcomed him with open arms when he'd shown up on the dance floor with Ana. Periodically he and Elliot would leave to grab more drinks, and would sit back and watch the girls continue to grind against each other, much to Elliot's delight. More than once he made the joke of taking Ana home, and after the third time and punch to the arm, he finally stopped. Christian knew it was a joke—he'd even laughed the first time. But by the third time, the thought of his brother having sex with Ana made him queasy.

Christian has intended on driving the group home, but after a while decided to live a little and imbibe as well. He texted Taylor, letting him know he'd need to provide rides, and then let loose. And he'd had a great time. He'd laughed more in those couple of hours than he had in years, and when the night finally winded down, he was actually sad to go.

They made it out to the car before both girls managed to pass out in the back seat. Elliot had managed to rouse Kate enough to walk inside their building, but Christian wasn't as lucky when he'd gotten Ana back to Escala. She was out cold, so he was forced to carry her bridal style up the elevator and to their bed. He gently took of her dress, shoes and jewelry, tucking the sheet around her before tugging off his own clothes and climbing in beside her. She let out a contented sigh as she curled up into his arms, and before he knew it, he was asleep as well.

Of course, that only lasted so long. He was awoken from that peaceful sleep an undetermined amount of time later, his body tense and covered in a sheen of sweat. But unlike the countless nights before, where he was tense and sweaty from a nightmare, this night he was awoken with pleasure coursing through his veins.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, to fully recognize the fact that he was painfully hard, his erection sliding in and out of the most deliciously soft, velvet mouth, across the most delicate lips and tongue he'd ever felt. He let out a groan, still half out of it, and opening his eyes expecting to see the mess of brown hair in his lap. But instead he was greeted with a far different—and far better—surprise.

As he regained his bearings, he realized that hovering above his face, obscuring his view of anything else and obliterating his desire to see her head in his lap, was Ana herself. Bare and glistening wet, her beautiful plumped, pink pussy floated inches above his lips, begging for attention.

Immediately his hand wrapped around her thighs and pulled, forcing her down the few inches until his lips could meet hers. He could feel her smile around his cock as it was obvious he was awake now, but she never stopped working his erection with her expert touch.

He ran his nose down the length of her slit, taking the time to appreciate the fact that he could, well, _appreciate_ this. That he could wake from sleep with someone on top of him and not feel unsafe, that he could be at ease with someone taking control, that he trusted her so much that he wasn't immediately concerned about being touched. He reveled in these thoughts for a moment, then let the thoughts flit from his mind to focus on her, his tongue reaching for her clit as one of his long fingers sunk all the way between her fold, making her moan.

* * *

"Ana," he murmured into the quiet as they lay in the bed, both having been completely sated from the rather raunchy sixty-nine-ing they'd just completed. Ana was no prude, but the alcohol, which was still coursing through their systems, had made them both that much more open to exploration. There had been so many fingers in various holes, and he couldn't remember the last time, if ever, a woman had ridden his face so fervently. There was a brief period where he thought he might suffocate to death between the cheeks of her ass. But shit… what a way to go.

But now she was nuzzled against his side, her head strategically placed on his arm so her face was not touching his chest. "Mmm," she hummed lowly, her voice evidence of the fact that he'd really tired her out.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his fingers tightening on the round of her shoulder, reflexively holding onto her, a silent, unconscious plea for her to ease his fears.

He felt her head drag along his arm, adjusting her position so she could look up at his face, confusion mixing with the sleepy look in her eyes. "Huh?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then restated his question. "I just need to know. Are you _happy_?" Then added a tentative, "With me, I mean."

Slowly she eased up and away from him, his hand falling off her shoulder as she propped herself up on her elbow to look down on him. They looked into each other's eyes, both saying things to each other that words couldn't. He was insecure. He needed her reassurance. And he could tell by the way her eyes softened that she understood that immediately. Normally he'd be embarrassed about needing reassurance. It was so unlike him to be this insecure. But he just couldn't manage to find any part of him that was self-consciousness at letting Ana know his deepest needs.

The fingers of her free hand traced gently down his cheek, across the angle of his jaw before they left and were replaced by her lips. She placed a delicate trail of kisses along his jawline to his chin then up to his lips. Softly, slowly they melded to his, the kisses as intense as they were gentle.

"Yes," she whispered against his lips, her voice quiet, but firm. "Of course."

He moaned at the surety in her answer, then again at the feeling of her sinking her fingers into his hair and tugging as she continued to kiss him so tenderly. It was making his chest tighten, the intimacy of it all. She must have seen something in his face, sensed it, because she questioned him almost immediately.

"You believe me don't you?"

He nodded, reluctantly, making it known that he did, or—wanted to, at least. But there was doubt.

"Can I show you?" she asked in a hush.

He nodded again, his heart instantly racing in anticipation. Ceding control to her in the moment didn't feel scary. It felt exhilarating, and oddly right. He hadn't really yielded control, sexual or otherwise, to anyone since… _her_. But that had been different. This thing with Ana was nothing like allowing himself to be dominated by that bitch.

The thoughts of _her_ were fleeting as Ana's lips met his again with added determination, but still the kisses stayed achingly slow. Lacing her fingers with his, her flawless body stretched out above him made him instantly hard. Her eyes shined with want and need. Her hair fell around her like a curtain, her skin flushed, her breast tight and nipples pert. Her torso arched down to those perfect hips which sat astride him. He felt her hot flesh resting on his lower abdomen, still wet from the mixture of his saliva and her previous orgasm. Long gone was the scent of her shampoo and body wash. She smelled of sweat and sex and it was better than any smell a company could bottle. It was raw and natural and alluring.

Her arms stretched up so their linked hands were resting next to his head. In the back of his mind he knew this move was for him, so that he knew where her hands were even when she was in control. His lips caught a nipple and she paused, letting him lave it gently, his tongue swirling around before his lips pulled then sucked. Deftly, her hips dipped and stretched, her body arching to catch his erection and align it with her entrance. Her eyes fluttered closed as she moved back and down onto it, sinking his length into her with one long, fluid motion.

Slowly their hips worked together, a deep grind providing enough friction to have both of them panting in no time. Fingers still linked, he moved their hands down, trapping hers behind her back, the move pushing her down so her nipples brushed against his chest. The feeling of the skin to skin contact sent zings of exhilaration through him, the feeling new and completely thrilling for him. He'd never allowed his naked chest to touch someone during sex before. It wasn't the same as her fingers on him, something he knew he still could not handle, but it was progress. He saw the questioning look in her eyes, the moment of worry pass through them as her breasts swayed across his skin. He could feel her tense in fear, her back arching to try and put distance between their upper bodies, but with her arms trapped the way they were, she had no leverage to move.

He bent his knees, forcing her to fall forward a little bit more, the full weight of her breasts now resting on him as well. A deep moan erupted from his throat at the feeling. Finding her lips again, his hips continued to work in tandem with hers. Higher and higher they climbed, their bodies hot and sweating, the friction so deliciously intense and satisfying. He opened his eyes, finding hers already open above him. He locked his sight on her, not wanting to look away.

He released her hands, and they moved immediately up, her left hooking around the side of his neck and her tight entwining in hair on the back of his head. He hitched his hands around her hips, actively tugging them down against his to that he stayed as deeply inside of her as he could possibly be.

Their mouths opened but they'd stopped kissing. Instead, their hot, panting breaths filled each other's mouths. Shit, he'd never felt something this intense before. They moved like that for what felt like forever, both of their bodies tense, actively pushing against each other with as much force as they could muster, pushing and pulling, grinding and digging. It was so deep and so raw and so fulfilling.

That was when he felt it. When her eyes were blazing into his as their bodies were fused together from top to bottom, he knew he felt that what she wanted him to feel, that she said was true. She was happy. She was feeling the things he felt when he was with her. This—them—what they were together, was so much more profound than he ever thought realistically possible. Panting, shaking, moaning. There was no pretense between them. It was just them, stripped bare- body, mind and soul. No one else knew him like she did, knew what he had been through, or understood what they'd been through together. She was everything to him. She was his first thought in the morning, his last thought at night. She provided him comfort and happiness with nothing but her simple existence. He'd questioned his role in her life, but right here, right now, without flowery words or promises, her eyes, her body- they told him everything he needed to know about how she really felt about him. Their depth bled from her soul her veneration of him. She was without a stitch of clothing, but the most naked thing about her was her gaze. She was completely open to him, bestowing upon him her absolute trust and faith. She was wordlessly handing over every piece of her on a silver platter- her body, her soul, her heart. She trusted him with it all.

And as delicious as her body felt surrounding him, it was his mind, and the realizations he'd just come to, that slung-shot his body to the brink of orgasm. The lucky man he was, he'd been witness to enough of her own orgasms by now to know when she was about to erupt, and he was relieved when he unmistakably saw that tell-tale look in her eyes too. Wrapping his arms around her tiny waist, he hugged her tightly against him, grinding his erection so deeply it took his breath away like a sucker punch to the stomach. His lips caught her moan as she came around him, her insides shaking, coating his cock in her warm wetness as she coaxed from him the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced. Deep inside of her his dick pulsated wildly, the spurts of his cum so vicious he was sure she had to feel them slashing her inner walls. They were both panting out moans, placing quick groaning kisses on each other lips as they remained adrift in their post-orgasmic highs for long minutes.

The methodical grinding of their hips systematically slowed until they were both finally still. They remained fused together, their hips, their sex, their torsos and chests, his hand tightly wrapped around her waist and her fingers curled in his hair. Her forehead rested on his shoulder and his face nuzzled her cheek next to her ear.

Overwhelming contentment washed through his body like he'd just injected the world's greatest drug in his veins. "God, I love you," he muttered into her hair.

He felt her body go rigid on top of him, her breath stopping in her chest, her fingers taking a sudden death grip on copper curls, her muscles tight with instant stress. He felt his heartbeat skyrocket as he realized what he's just said. Neither of them moved. His lungs started to ache and burn as the oxygen dissipated but he failed to exhale and take another breath. They both just stayed completely still, her head still cocked to the side, not daring a look at him. He knew he was staring wide eyed, mouth agape at the ceiling.

_What had he just said?_


	22. Chapter 22

The deep and intense euphoria he'd just been experiencing was gone in an instant.

_God, I love you._

Had he really _said_ that? …Did he really _feel_ that? He forced down the bubbling in his stomach, the deep thrill that the words tumbled from his lips because they were the truth. He needed a minute. A minute to digest this, a minute to think of what to say to Ana.

She was still perched on top of him, her body tense and unmoving. He felt her hot breath panting on his shoulder, her heart beat pounding against his chest, but he wasn't sure if it was from the remnants of her still waning orgasm or from the fucking bomb he's just dropped on her. But something told him that judging by her body language, for whatever reason, she wasn't exactly reveling in the words he'd just said.

His hands were at his sides, his fingers clenching the sheets around them, afraid of touching her, afraid of moving. This was literally the worst position they could have been in while he blurted out words neither expected him to say, maybe _ever_. There was no escaping each other. They had no distance, no room to breathe or think. There was no hiding behind anything as they both lay butt-naked in bed, his semi-hard dick still inside of her body. He had to do something, _say_ something. They couldn't just _stay_ like this.

"Ana?" his strangled voice softly filled the space around them. He felt her flinch, her head turned away from him, still buried against his shoulder. She wasn't looking at him. He had no idea what she was thinking or feeling.

His fingers skimmed gently down the naked skin of her side, causing a shiver to surge down her spine in their wake. However, he knew this particular shiver wasn't the kind he was used to causing in her body, because as soon as it ended, she shot up away from him. Her left arm instinctively went to her front, crossing over her breasts as she pushed her body up and off of him. He felt the gush of fluid slide out of her, down his shaft and make its way down his balls, cooling as it hit the bedroom air, the remnants of their orgasms on his skin a tangible metaphor for the coldness he was now feeling between them.

She grabbed the flat sheet from where it was scrunched up at the end of the bed, wrapping it tightly around her body as she stood up. He watched her warily, never before having seen her hide her nakedness from him. Then she was across the room and in the on suite before he could even react properly. Standing as well, he grabbed a discarded t-shirt from the hamper and quickly wiped down between his legs, removing the bulk of the evidence of their coupling so he could focus on the issue at hand and not the feeling of their cum on his skin.

He was still caught up in his own head, mechanically sliding on his discarded boxer-briefs, focusing on the fact that he was shocked himself that he'd said those three little words- words he never thought he'd utter to a woman not named 'Grace' or 'Mia'. Ana and he had been through somewhat of an emotional wringer these past few days—he'd just days ago reiterated that he wasn't sure he was capable of love, and she'd been understanding, then he'd been unexpectedly _affronted_ by her understanding… They'd been a mess, and after finally expressing through a physical connection, a common understanding on where they stood emotionally, he'd gone and blurted out the L-word, the one word that centered around the contention to begin with.

He heard the toilet flush and the sink running, and when Ana stepped back into the bedroom. He immediately held his hand out in her direction, beckoning her forward. He'd never seen her like this before- so scattered and anxious. Whatever lay ahead for them during this conversation, he wasn't sure, but he knew without a doubt that they needed to sit down and have said conversation, or they'd wind up right back where they started, if not in a worse position than before. "Ana, please some sit down so we can talk about this," he breathed out, his voicing missing much of the confidence it normally held when he spoke.

"We don't need to talk about it," she said, a fake as fuck smile suddenly plastered on her face, her hands tightly clutching the sheet around her chest.

"How do you figure **that**? _Of course_ we need to talk about it," he squawked incredulously.

"It's okay Christian," she said quickly, that damn overly wide smile still on her face. It was making him angry. She wasn't going to talk to him about this? How was that possibly even an option? "It was a slip of the tongue. I get it. It's seriously not a big deal. I'll just forget you said it, okay?"

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. _No_, not okay. That was not okay. None of this was okay. Frankly, he was insulted that she was just blowing off something so huge, dismissing his confession of love so easily. What if he did love her? She was going to just gloss over it like it was nothing?

He watched her move around the room quickly, grabbing clothes from the hamper near the bathroom. What was she doing? As she tugged dirty clothes from the bin, he tried to remember which article of clothing he's just used to clean himself off. And as she grabbed what appeared to be the article of clothing on top of the pile- a t-shirt- and tugged it over her head, he grimaced wondering if that was in fact the one he'd just soiled. Yeah, he was pretty sure _that_ was the shirt... But she'd feel if it was wet against her skin right and not wear it right? Because… gross. …Why was she getting dressed in her dirty clothes from the day anyway? Cum stained or not? Suddenly his short-lived preoccupation with the state of her clothing was lost in favor of focusing on the bigger picture.

…Oh God, she was _running_. She was running and if he didn't do something, he was going to lose her.

And that was the moment he knew, as the panic swelled in him at the thought of her leaving, of the possibility of living a life without her in it- it hit him like a ton of brinks, and that was the moment he was sure that what he'd said hadn't been an unfortunate slip of the tongue. It had been a truthful one. He was only lying to himself by questioning otherwise.

So now he knew his truth, but he had absolutely no inkling as to what was driving her seemingly distraught thoughts right now. She was obviously distressed, but why? Was she was worried that he'd only accidentally said the words and not meant them? Maybe she was afraid of getting her hopes up only for him to say it was a slip of the tongue? Or, what it she didn't _want_ him to love her? What if she was upset because _she_ didn't love _him_?

The fears of her unrequited love started swirling around inside of him. Now _he_ was worried. What was her reaction going to be? What was she thinking? What did _she_ feel? Was she fearful that he was going to crush her, because she loved him too? Or was she fearful she was going to crush him, because she didn't? The unknown made his chest ache.

He took in a deep breath, urging himself to calm down. This was Ana he was talking about. His Ana. He knew her better than anyone, and vice versa. There was nothing to be scared of here, not with her. She held his whole life in her hands and he trusted her with it implicitly. He'd just spent the better part of the last few days questioning her feelings for him, and she's literally just finished proving to him how much she truly cared for him during that deeply intense love making.

That love making. It was… suddenly he felt the fissions of contentment and satisfaction wash over him, ebbing away his worry. That love making said more to him than words ever could. Hell, it was the catalyst for him confessing his own feelings, right? So it was safe to assume that it held the key to Ana's true feelings as well. And what it told him was everything he needed to know. _Love making_. Making _love_. She'd expressed her love, whether she realized it or not. Now, he just needed to figure out what was making her question her feelings, question him. Whatever it was, he would make it right. Because there was an instant shift to his priorities, and now nothing else in this world could mean more to him than to hear her repeat those words back to him.

"Ana," he spoke, hoping to gain her actual attention. He wasn't going to let her walk away. After everything he'd been through, everything _they'd_ been through, to get to this point and time, he was not willing to let her run out of here without discussing this. He loved her. She needed to know that him saying that was not a mistake. It was the most brutally honest thing his soul had ever felt. And he couldn't let her leave without knowing that truth, and knowing with certainty how she felt about him in return.

She was scurrying around his room in a frenzy, her eyes wide and wild as she tugged on her dirty jeans, looking around the room for whatever it was she was trying to grab last minute as she tried to dodge him.

"Ana," he said more sternly, reaching for her as she zoomed past him for her phone. He took hold of her upper arms, forcing her to halt in front of him. That wide, lifeless smile plastered on her face again as she looked up, but not at him. If he had to guess, her gaze was somewhere between his eyebrows. "Look at me," he said quietly.

And she did, reluctantly, her smile faltering into something akin to a grimace, but her eyes did find his, hollow and empty though they may be.

"I love you," he said confidently. Confusion flashed in her eyes, for the moment he stared into them before she averted them again. Fear, he saw fear. But of what? God, this was torture, seeing her like this as he admitted he loved her. He wanted those words to make her smile, make her eyes shine and elate her to a state of ecstasy. It was hurting him to see her react to his love this way. But if there was one thing he'd learned in these past months, one thing he wanted to give Ana that she deserved more than anything, it was his honesty. So with his fingers on her chin, he guided her to face him again until he was again staring into fathomless blue. "I. love. you," he said slowly, assuredly. A desperate look crossed her face then, one filled with anguish and it sliced through him like a knife. Long gone was any semblance of her false grin, her mouth a flat line until it tugged ever-so-slightly down at the corners. "And I know you love me too," he added quietly.

Her eyes widened in panic as she tried to pulled out of his grasp, but he held tightly to her. "I know you love me to, Ana. You proved it just now in that bed with me. You may not have said the words but you screamed it with your body. You said you wanted to show me how much you care? Well, message received loud and clear."

"Christian," she pleaded with him, still pulling against his hold but making no attempt to respond to his accusations.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, his own tone taking on a desperate plea.

Her mouth dropped open and he had the fleeting thought that she looked like a fish out of water. She turned away from him, her back facing him as she continued to shut him out, continued to move toward the door to _leave_.

"Ana, _talk to me_. You've spent months pulling me out of myself, getting me to trust you with whatever it is I've kept buried deep inside. Well, now I'm asking you to do the same. _Trust_ me. Talk to me. _Please._" She stopped, her back still to him, but she stopped. He waited with baited breath for what felt like minutes before she spoke.

"What am I scared of?" she breathed out so quietly he questioned for a moment if she'd said it at all. He watched her shoulders rise as she took in a deep breath, then slowly she turned to face him again. "I'm scared of us. Of what you mean to me. Of what I mean to you. Of what will be left of either or both of us if you decide this isn't for you," she finished with a gesture between them.

"How do you mean?" he pressed.

"Christian. I've never been in a long term, committed relationship. Not something super serious that I saw going anywhere near permanent. And I was… okay with that. I was okay depending only on myself. I've done that all my life. Me against the world and all that. I had to learn independence really quickly in my life, and I've been perfectly content with that. Until you came along and turned my world upside down," she said with a scoff. "In the beginning, I always felt like I was on borrowed time with you. We had some really good days, but even then most of the time I felt like if I stopped putting in the effort and we never saw each other again that you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. But I was okay with that. If that happened, then so be it, but until then, I just wanted the chance to be your friend. I was willing to do anything to try and make you see the guy I knew you were inside.

"But somewhere along the line that changed. I started to feel something more but I ignored it. I pushed it aside because I knew what you needed was a friend. So I shut it down and focused on you. But then** you** changed. I went from feeling disposable in your life to feeling like your lifeline. And that's a very big role to play in someone's life. And when you told me you had feelings for me, I convinced myself that it was because I was your first real relationship and you were just latching on to the idea of something new. I've just kind of always chalked whatever feelings you have toward me as part of your naiveté in love."

She took a moment to regroup, and Christian let her, wanting her to get out everything that was on her mind. This was so important. He needed to know what was happening, what she was thinking, because it was clear now that he hadn't been privy to a lot of her deepest thoughts about him and them. But already he was fuming, incensed that she had been disregarding his feelings for her as illusory just because this was the first time he'd ever felt them. He knew, logically, that it said more about her than it did about him, that she was doing it to protect herself, because over and over he'd practically _pummeled_ her with the idea he could _never_ do normal, could _never_ love someone. But on a visceral level, he was deeply hurt that this whole time she'd dismissed his feelings as nothing more than a passing fancy.

"You have some such a long way from the guy I met for coffee after graduation. You are amazing, and I am in awe of what you've been able to accomplish regarding changes to yourself. But what if I'm not enough for you? I try my best every day to get up and be strong and be what I need to be in order to make it in this world. But how could I possibly be enough for a man like you? A man of such power and authority? I'm no one special at the end of the day, Christian. Just little Ana Steele, the girl no one wanted. You're going to keep growing and someday you're going to get over all of your lingering issues and you'll finally feel normal. And… I'm afraid when that happens, you'll finally realize I'm not enough. You can have anyone. Why would you want me? Someday you'll look back at me as the stepping stone that got you to wherever you end up, with whoever you end up with when you get there. Some beautiful, smart, successful woman who deserves a man like you—"

"Stop, please," he begged interrupting her diatribe that was gutting him to the deepest parts of himself. Was this really the same woman he'd known all these months? Ana had always seemed so strong and self-confident. But that was in direct contrast to the woman who was spilling her guts out before him. Flynn was right; she clearly had been putting him above herself since day one. Well, no more. Starting today he was going to lift her up the same way she had always done for him. He was going to support her and encourage her and be her unwavering rock for as long as she would allow him a place in her life. His left hand tightened around her bicep, holding her body close to his while his right hand curled around the left side of her neck

"Stop talking about yourself like that. _Just_ little Ana Steele? _**Just**_? You're _everything_, Ana. How can you think about yourself like that? I had no idea you were so… _down_ on yourself, that you viewed yourself so negatively. But you have got to stop. It's all wrong. Everything you said, it's all untrue. _ I'm_ the one who doesn't deserve **you**. I'm the one who should always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, who should be waiting for you to wake up and realize you can do better and walk away. I could try for the rest of my life and never truly deserve a woman as wonderful as you. And it kills me that you've been sitting there this whole time, expecting me to step over you on my path to a different life. I have never for a second envisioned moving on to any other woman. Since the moment I first started considering having more with a woman, you have been the only woman I've wanted it with. It's only ever been you, Ana. It's only ever going to be you."

His thumbs moved to her cheeks, wiping at the wet streaks cascading down them. "You're it for me, baby. The epitome of all I could ever hope to be. The epitome of all I could ever want or need in this life."

He spent an excruciating minute with baited breath as he watched her mind spinning, watching her mulling over his words and letting them sink in. "You really _love_ me?" she asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, which were glistening and dancing behind the thinned sheen of tears.

"I _really_ love you," he confirmed vehemently. She was looking deep into his eyes as he answered, searching, and he just hoped and prayed that whatever she was looking for, she would find. Then finally, a small, but genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her tongue came out, licking at the salty tears that had plumped and softened her already enticing lips.

"I love you too," she said, her voice cracking at the end as more tears streamed down her face. He felt them, wetting his own cheeks as his lips latched onto hers, pure joy radiating from every fiber of his being.

The kisses were deep and soulful, every ounce of happiness, fear, excitement, pain, trust and love burning between them.

Finally. Finally he was confident that they were exactly where he should be, that he would be everything he could be to deserve her. No longer would this relationship hinge on his happiness, on his comfort level with where they were and what they were doing. He would never again make the mistake of taking her over-caring nature for granted. He would be there every day to support her, to show her exactly what she meant to him and how he felt about her. He wanted to be the person in this world who she trusted with everything, who she knew was always there for her, always championing for her best interests. He would still let her hold him up when he needed it, but in turn he would do the same for her. From this moment forward until the day he died he would dedicate himself to showing her each and every day how thankful he was that she took a shot on him, that she invested her time and energy and soul into healing him. Now it was his turn to nurture her soul as well.

"_Love is a verb. Love - the feeling – is the fruit of love, the verb. So love her. Serve her. Sacrifice. Listen to her. Empathize. Appreciate. Affirm her." –Stephen R. Covey_

He wanted to _love_ her. And he would, to unfathomable depths, for the rest of his life.

* * *

He looked down at her, wrapped up in his arms. Her blue eyes shone brightly, her brunette hair swept up in an intricate style that was representative of both the elegance and significance of this event. She smiled so wide, so fiercely happy that it made his own chest swell with equal happiness. And love. He was popping at the seams with love.

Nat King Cole crooned 'Unforgettable' in the background and he swept her around the dance floor, her white lace dress kissing the surface of the polished marble. She was barefoot, something that was so _her_. She was wearing a dress that cost tens of thousands of dollars, but the moment she'd been able to pop off her Jimmy Choo's, she'd done it.

"You look so beautiful tonight," he whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she smiled up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. He gave her a weak smile, his emotions getting the better of him as he tried to quell the lump forming in his throat.

"Mind if I cut in," a deep voice asked from over his shoulder.

Christian narrowed his eyes, huffing out, "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Daddy, stop," Phoebe giggled, pressing up on her tippy toes to place a kiss to his cheek. He melted, like always, for his little girl.

"Hands above the waist," he shot to Jacob, the man who had swooped into his baby girl's life and stolen her heart. He still remembered the day she came home claiming to be in love with one of GEH's new, young hot-shot CAO. The idea had been preposterous, obviously. She was only twenty-two! Christian had been ripe to fire the asshole for dating his daughter without his knowledge, which is apparently what had been going on for the last few months. It was either that or kill him. Of course, Ana had refused to let him to either.

Truthfully, Jacob was a good kid. He worked hard for GEH and even harder to be deserving of Phoebe. And he did love her, anyone could see that when they were together. It was a small consolation though, when Jacob came to him asking for his daughter's hand in marriage. Ana had been listening outside the home office door and had thrown it open, wrapping her arms around Jacob's shoulders and squealing while hugging him. She already thought of him as one of her own children by that point.

"Oh hush," came the voice that would forever send his heart into overdrive. Turning, he saw his beautiful wife, dressed in a floor length blue gown with off-the-shoulder sheer blue long sleeves. It was fitted to her still stunning body, which was dripping in diamonds he'd bought her. And peeking out from under the hem, he saw… toes. She was barefoot. He smirked to himself. Like mother like daughter. She was in the arms of tall, muscular man with copper curls and fierce gray eyes, clearly elated as she celebrated this day with her family.

"Ted, I'm going to need to ask you to hand over my woman," he said, his eyes locked on hers now.

"Hands above the waist, Dad," Teddy shot back, a grin on his face as he placed a kiss to his mother's cheek before handing her over to his father.

"Mm," Christian hummed, like he was willing to acquiesce to this request. But once he pulled his wife into his arms, he immediately grabbing a handful of her ass and squeezed hard.

Ana let out a squeal, then a laugh as Teddy groaned. "Gross, Dad," he grumbled.

Ana and Christian both laughed as he stalked away, Christian's hands wrapping around her waist and clasping at her lower back. Ana slid her hands up and around his neck, her fingers weaving in the hair at the base of his scalp.

'The Way You Look Tonight', by Sinatra started playing and he looked at his wife as he had a million, billion, trillion times in their past twenty-seven years as husband and wife- with fierce love and adoration. He remembered every inch of her face as he'd danced with her for the first time to this very song all those years ago at the Coping Together Gala. The memory wasn't necessarily a happy one, for the most part anyway. But he'd never forget the moment he'd dipped her back, seeing her joyful eyes and brilliant smile, and the ensuing realization that he was attracted to her, which had hit him with the subtly of a freight train. But as she'd done a lot back then, his Ana had weathered his storm. She was his touchstone, his strength. And he was confident that he'd been hers, as well, since the first day they'd exchanged 'I love you's'.

They'd aged, since then. She had the tiniest little wrinkles at the edges of her eyes, and he had gray hair peppering his temples. But her eyes still lit with the youthful exuberance she'd had when she was twenty one, and as he looked into them he was catapulted back to when they first danced to this song.

_And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, it touches my foolish heart…_

He dipped her back just like he'd done that day, and she'd let out the same giggle she always did.

"Don't let me go," she warned, but he knew she trusted him not to, as her body lay pliable and trusting in his arms, rather than rigid and nervous.

He righted her, pulling her against him, feeling her hands snake up to his chest, palms flat and fingers spread wide.

"Never," he whispered in her ear, before sealing her mouth with his own.

**A/N: I went through and re-edited this story to clean up some of the mistakes I missed the first time around. I took out all of the author's notes, but I want to leave this last one in for anyone coming back or reading for the first time. Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and PM's I've gotten over the duration of this story. I've been continually blown away by the feedback, and you guys made writing this so much fun for me. I write for fun, for myself, but there's not much point if no one is enjoying it. And you guys have been a continual source of inspiration to continue and finish this story. I received more feedback than I ever thought I would, so thank you again for all the support! Until next time!**


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